Our Hotwives

The solid rubber ball leaves the launcher at full velocity but entirely the wrong trajectory. It speeds in the direction of a distinguished-looking gentleman in his late fifties. The pursuing collie looks confused to say the least. And as for its owner, she stands rooted to the spot, powerless to recall the rubberised missile as it heads swiftly toward the unintended target.

'Smack!!!'

The ball lands full on.

Joyce runs across the park to the gentleman. He is by now rubbing the back of his neck where a large red circle denotes the site of impact. He utters a stream of barely disguised profanities beneath his breath.

'Sorry!!!!'

'You jolly well should be, young lady', he replies.

He looks down at Joyce the precise moment her collie arrives to retrieve the errant ball. She can’t fail but engage with his piercing blue eyes. And then, to compound matters, the dog jumps up.

‘No, Mollie … down!!!!’

But it’s too late. The gentleman’s immaculate white shirt now bears the unmistakable imprint of muddy paws.

*Oh no … I… I… I’m so sorry.’

Much to her surprise he bursts into guffaws of loud laughter.

‘Don’t worry. I know you and Mollie meant no harm.’

His deep blue eyes brim with warmth. Mollie sits obediently as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for a tasty treat. The rubber ball lies at his feet. He bends, picks it up and hands it to Joyce.

‘Yours, I believe.’

Joyce is about to get some new dick for her hotwife mouth and pussy, me thinks!

Joyce blushes. She accepts the offending ball meekly, and clips Mollie to her lead.

'I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do?'

'Well, you can tell me your name for a start!'

'It's Joyce.'

'Well, Joyce, perhaps I need to show you how to throw that ball safely.'

The distinguished gentleman smiles again and tilts his head slightly to one side as he looks down at Joyce. He towers over her. And there's something about his upright bearing that suggests a military background.

'I'm James. Major General James Morgan retired, to be precise.'

He clicks his heels, whistles. A beautiful, muscular German Shepherd bounds across the park and comes obediently to heel.

'And this is Star.'

Joyce pats the Major General's dog on the head.

'He's lovely!'

'And so are you. Same time, same place tomorrow. Be there on time and we'll start training.'

Joyce blushes again. She can't quite believe this is happening. But there's something in that authoritative voice which makes her go quite weak at the knees.

'Well .. um .. er ... yes, James, that would be good'

And with that, the two go their separate ways, dogs in close attendance.

All the way home in the car Joyce mulls over this chance encounter. She can't get out of her mind the tall, commanding figure of Major General James Morgan. Silver-haired, broad-shouldered and blue-eyed he must have made many women go weak at the knees in his time. But Joyce is happily married and her husband, Simon will soon be coming home too. So what is she to think? She feels ... a little conflicted, a little excited, a little scared. Such a rich, heady mixture of emotions.

Mollie is fed, the kettle's on and Joyce is in the kitchen making dinner for tonight. The sound of a key going into the lock.

'I'm home .. how has your day gone, hun?'

Simon comes straight through to the kitchen and gives his loving, faithful wife a big, warm hug.

'It went very well, thank you.'

Joyce gives him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and returns to her chopping board.

Definitely more to come I hope.

Its been a while since you wrote, I'm hoping you woll finish the story.
Its good.

'So what have you been up to today?'

'Oh you know, just the usual ...'

Joyce is slightly uncomfortable as she says it. 'Just the usual ...' Except, of course, it was anything but 'the usual' today. Something deep within has begun to stir and she's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Mollie rushes to greet Simon, jumping up and down to catch his attention. It's almost as if she's trying to tell him something.

'Well someone seems very excited ... must have enjoyed her walk this afternoon'

Joyce smiles inwardly. Yes indeed, someone has very much enjoyed her walk. The question is, whether she will return to the same place tomorrow.

Pleasantries are exchanged over dinner, dishes are washed and as is their custom Joyce goes one way to watch the TV and Simon goes another to access the computer. Only tonight, Joyce can't seem to settle. Her mind keeps playing over the events of the afternoon. Those warm, welcoming eyes ... tinged, she thinks, with a hint of sadness. Perhaps she'll discover more tomorrow. And then she stops herself. "What am I thinking??' I'm a married woman.'

Joyce sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning during the night. Simon, as ever, is flat out. He's a good husband, a very good husband but life seems to have become, well ... tame. At one point during her early morning reverie Joyce's hand wanders toward the crotch of her pajamas. She's about to seek out the warmness within when she reminds herself that nice girls don't do that sort of thing. And she's a nice girl. Isn't she? So many doubts, so many conflicting thoughts crowd her mind until at last she falls asleep.

Simon is up early. A busy day lies ahead at the school where he works. He goes down to the kitchen, makes himself breakfast then returns to the bedroom with the customary cup of warm, weak tea for Joyce. She's still asleep. He kisses her forehead gently and whispers, 'Have a good day, hun. See you tonight.' Joyce smiles. Her eyes remain shut. 'You too, dear ... love you.' A second gentle kiss. 'Love you, too'. And then he's gone.

Housework keeps her busy that morning. Dusting, vacuuming, changing the beds. The stuff of everyday life. Duty done Joyce returns to the bedroom to choose the clothes she's going to wear for the day . She stops for a second to glance in the bedroom mirror. The reflection of a shy, short-haired and bespectacled lady in her late fifties looks back at her. Where has time gone? When did the excitement go? Now the twins are off at University she wonders sometimes what life will bring. She misses their happy, girlish laughter. Envies their young, supple bodies.

Joyce sighs deeply then does something she's never done before. She undoes he buttons of her pajama top one by one then throws it on the floor. The bottoms follow in quick succession and now she stands before the mirror in just a pair of white full-cut panties. Good girls always wear panties to bed. That's what she's been taught. But now they're about to come off too. She closes her eyes, bites her lip and imagines a tall, authoritative gentleman easing his fingers into the waistband and gently tugging them down.

'What am I thinking?!!! For goodness sake, I'm a married woman!'

Joyce kicks off her panties and opens her eyes. There in the mirror stands a pretty and mature lady. Still slim, her brown-nipple breasts are larger now she's suckled twins. She looks down. She NEVER looks there. It reminds her of school changing rooms, skimpy PE kit and, horror of horrors, the shame of the communal showers under the watchful eye of the PE teacher. But this time she will look. Once her bush had been thick, dark and luxuriant. It's thinner now, the curls peppered with a light dusting of silvery hair. How could she ever be considered attractive?

please keep going.

Hi Dick,

I'm not sure if many people are interested. I've had little feedback to date.

Simon

you have over 2100 views. check some of the other threads & notice how many views they have & how many comments. this is not unusual.

unfasten_her_slacks wrote: ↑

Fri Mar 20, 2020 10:52 pm

Hi Dick,

I'm not sure if many people are interested. I've had little feedback to date.

Simon

Dude, we are waiting for the next part! I'm wondering how it's going to go. Will she turn into a whore and slut, just have an affair? Be a hotwife? Cuckoldress?

Too early to comment for many. It takes time to get into the story

Most people just read the story and never comment.
Just the way it is.
Don't be disheartened.

This is a super hot story

Kinda like what I would love to see my bride go through, I would love to hear how it develops.

You are a wordsmith... Pleas continue.

ok, nothing for 6 months. i guess Joyce & Mollie decided to not go.

Sad that this post hasn't continued. I recently found it so didn't have the opportunity to respond.

One of the issues with almost every story site is that you need to be on-line each and every day to watch what is happening but that in not possible. Writers require some response or they start to wonder if they are wasting their time. If that feeling gets too intense they drop out and either stop writing altogether or find an alternative site.

Come back "unfasten_her_slacks" some of us are waiting for you to continue.

Hope it does continue, great story developing!

Joyce shakes her head as she looks fleetingly at the grey triangle which frames her most intimate place.

'I can't ... can I?'

Then she steps into the shower.

I know it's been a very long time but I thought I might dip once again into this rather dusty little story...

The water is warm and soothing. Joyce soaps up, the suds chasing down her body to the shower-tray below. Hands, feet, under-arms, bottom and then ...

She reaches for the shower-head and unfastens it from the clip that holds it to the wall. With a shaking hand begins to lower it slowly toward her pudenda. The warm jets feel lovely today, so very different to normal. Joyce closes her eyes and begins to think of Major General James Morgan. Her thoughts are rude, very rude ... so very, very un-Joyce like. Her free hand reaches down between her trembling legs.

In her soapy reverie the grey veil of middle-age has fallen away. She now stands in her old bottle-green school uniform in front of the seated Major General, a muddy print besmirching the front of his otherwise immaculate white shirt.

"You've been a very naughty young lady, Joyce. And do you know what happens to very naughty young ladies?"

She shakes her head.

"No, Sir"

"Well, you're about to find out then!"

Joyce presses the shower-head against her small pink rose-bud clitoris as the story in her head begins to unfold.

So what do you think? Is it worth continuing these random ramblings?

YES, YES!
Continue!

hell yes. keep going.

Please continue......you do a good job!

The way the tension is building and the character development is fantastic! Joyce will hopefully let her heart lead her to pleasures!

Joyce gasps as her fingers brush lightly against her engorged clitoris. She's dreaming of going across the Major General's knee. He lifts her pleated school skirt to reveal the regulation bottle-green school knickers beneath. And now the Major General has slipped his hands inside the waistband and is about to tug them down.

"Oh Sir, please .. no!!!"

Joyce's fingers rub faster and faster. It's such a wicked, wicked dream to be spanked like a naughty little schoolgirl and within seconds she cums.

"Oh how could I?" she asks herself, feeling so guilty as the last waves of pleasure wash over. The shower is now hot and steamy, just like the shy middle-aged lady within.

Joyce towels herself dry and puts on her purple candlewick dressing gown. The one she bought all those years ago from her very first wage-packet. Her head spins. She resolves firmly not to take matters any further. Happily married for over thirty years to her childhood sweetheart, Joyce has never even flirted with another man let alone ....

Breakfast is leisurely. A slice or two of thickly buttered warm toast washed down with more milky tea. She swirls the last dregs in the bottom of her mug as Mollie comes bounding across to the kitchen table. Nearly time for her walk. Will there be another little adventure for her today? Joyce shakes her head, but ...

Normally she's dressed in a twinkle of the eye, but this morning Joyce takes her time. What should she wear? A plain white bra and sensible full-cut mumsy panties of course. Best keep warm on a fresh Autumn morning. And then? Her best corduroy trousers, navy blue and snug-fitting, teamed with a lovely Arran polo-necked jumper she spent many an evening hand-knitting with love. Socks and sensible low-heeled walking shoes complete the outfit.

Joyce is a picture of middle-aged contentment - demure, conservatively dressed but glowing still from her shower-time exploits. She returns to the kitchen, clips Mollie to her lead and takes her to car parked ready on the drive. Of course nothing's going to happen, but Joyce can't help but check her watch as she fastens her safety belt. The Major's words still ring loud in her mind. 'Same time, same place tomorrow. Be there on time and we'll start training.'