OK, so dishapeaches did her list of music she hates and I even chimed in with my own dislikes. But I want to lay out what I like too, so I thought I could do that best by listing all the concerts I've ever attended. So here they come.   I probably will forget a couple, so this list will be edited.

NOTE: If there's a number in parentheses after, that's the number of times I saw them. If there's no number, then I saw them once, or they're listed again later. Get it?   If there are two or more groups listed together, they were part of the same bill.  And I'll try to be as chronological as possible, knowing it's impossible.  The dates are as best I can remember them.  I'll make corrections after I consult my ticket stubs, which are a part of a display on my wall at work.

Simon & Garfunkel - Kingston (PA) Armory (1967)
Big Brother & the Holding Company (w/ Janis) - Penn State Univ. (1968)
Joan Baez/Mississippi Fred McDowell/The New Lost City Ramblers and others - Penn State Univ. (1970)
Chicago - Penn State Univ. (1971)
The Eagles/The Doobie Brothers - Farm Show Arena, Harrisburg, PA  (1973)
Mott the Hoople/Aerosmith/Queen (yeh, all on the same bill ... hot, eh?) - Farm Show Arena, Harrisburg, PA (1973)
Yes - Hersheypark Arena, Hershey, PA (1974)
ELO (first concret I took my kids to ... they were 7 and 5 at the time) - The Spectrum, Phila., PA (1976)
The Kinks - Bloomsburg State College, Bloomsburg, PA (1979 or 1980)
Pink Floyd (The Wall) - Nassau Co. Coliseum, Uniondale, Long Island (1980?) - Best concert ever! 
Warren Zevon (2) - Dickinson College, Carlisle, PA (1981) & The Forum, Harrisburg, PA (1983?)
The Cars - City Island, Harrisburg, PA (all City Island concerts were early 1980's)
The GoGos - City Island, Harrisburg, PA
Huey Lewis & the News - City Island (sorry, dishapeaches!)
Billy Idol - City Island
Lover Boy - City Island
Steve Forbert - The Forum, Harrisburg, PA (1979 or 1980) - Romeo's Tune is on my All Time Top 10 Faves List.
Charlie Daniels Band - The Forum
Pat Benatar - The Forum
Jackson Browne - Merriweather Post Pavilion, Columbia, MD (1980)
Jimmy Buffett - Merriweather Post (1980)
James Taylor (2) - Merriweather Post (1980) & Shippensburg State College, Shippensburg, PA (1981 or 1982)
Jefferson Starship - Merriweather Post (1980) - Second best seats ever - 4th row center!
The Eagles/Blue Steel - The Spectrum, Phila, PA (1980)
The Greg Kinh Band - The Metron, Harrisburg, PA (1981)
The Romantics - The Metron (1981 or 1982) - The loudest band I've ever heard!  Deafening!
The Beach Boys - Hersheypark Arena (1981 or 1982)
Jefferson Starship/Bob Welch - The Spectrum, Phila, PA (1981 or 1982)
John Denver - Hersheypark Arena (1982 or 1983) - With the best backup band imaginable! 
Bo Diddley (2) - Penn Harris Motor Inn, Lemoyne, PA (1982?) and Penn State Arts Festival (1985 or 1986)
The Rolling Stones/George Thoroughgood & the Delaware Destroyers/Journey - JFK Stadium, Phila. (1982?)
The Rolling Stones/Tina Turner - Brendan Byrne Arena, East Rutherford, NJ (1982?)
Miles Davis/Modern Jazz Quartet/David Sanborn/Dizzy Gillespie and more - Phila. Jazz Festival (1982)
Springsteen (2) - Veterans Stadium, Phila. & Brendan Byrne Arena, East Rutherford, NJ (1984?)
The Jacksons - JFK Stadium, Phila. (1983?)
Elvis Costello & The Attractions - Merriweather Post (1983)
Elton John/Quarterflash - Merriweather Post (probably 1983) - Best spontaneous lucky break.  My friend and I, looking for a place to sit, passed two young women sitting on the grass.  They offered to share their hash if we had a pipe.  We did, and they delivered.  What a great time!
Dave Mason - Gulliftey's, Camp Hill, PA (late 1980s)
Jim & Jesse McReynolds/Bill Monroe/Ralph Stanley & the Clinch Mountain Boys/Jimmy Martin - Jim & Jesse's Bluegrass Festival, Elizabethton, TN (1992) - All their autographed 8x10 glossies are on my wall! 
Gary P. Nunn/Rusty Weir - The Broken Spoke, Austin, TX (probably 1992 or 1993)
Johnny Cash - Pat Garrett Amphitheater, Strausstown, PA (early 1990s)
Merle Haggard - Pat Garrett Amphitheater (early 1990s)
George Jones - Pat Garrett's (early 1990s)
Waylon Jennings - Pat Garrett's (early 1990s)
Willie Nelson - Pat Garret's (early 1990s) and ...
Willie Nelson - Willie Nelson's 4th of July Pic-Nic, Luckenbach, TX (1996)
Kris Kristofferson/Johnny Rodriguez/Leon Russell/Ray Price/Gary P. Nunn/and many others - Willie's Pic-Nic
Van Morrison/Bob Dylan/Jerry Lee Lewis - Fleadh Mor, Tramore (Co. Waterford), Ireland (1993) 
Van Morrison - Guinness Fleadh, Randall's Island, NYC (1994) - My most fave song ever - Tupelo Honey
John Prine/Steve Earle/Sinead O'Connor/Soul Asylum - Guinness Fleadh, NYC (1994)
Martina McBride - Long's Park, Lancaster, PA (late 1990s) - Independence Day is on that Faves list!  And what a voice!
The Clancy Brothers and Robbie O'Connell - Hershey Theatre, Hershey, PA (late '90s) - best seats ever - front row center!
Arlo Guthrie - The Forum, Harrisburg, PA (early 2000s)
Keb Mo' - Whitaker Center, Harrisburg, PA (early 2000s)
Black 47 - Appalachian Brewing Co., Harrisburg, PA (early 2000s)
John Hiatt and the Goners - Whitaker Center
Bruce Cockburn - Whitaker Center
Richard Thompson/Roger McGuinn - Whitaker Center - A fantastic set of Byrds songs to end the concert, by their former lead singer, with Richard Thompson playing backup to Roger McGuinn's 12 string.
Natalie Merchant - The Forum
Bob Dylan - Bryce Jordan Arena, Penn State Univ. (2006)
Lucinda Williams/Alejandro Escovido - The Forum (2007)





 

Such a weird result from the Ad Generator. Uncanny, since cuckold is a derivative of cuckoo!



So why not try another? Again, uncanny! It couldn't have described Bonnie better!



Stolen from alainbriongloid, and thanks appydvd for the connection.

Using that there dude Scrapdog's Comment Stats Wizard 1.7:

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Top Commenters on night_writer_60's LiveJournal
(Self and anonymous comments excluded from rankings)

1	dishapeaches	15
2	beigekhakis	6
3	smuchick	5
4	whore_whispers	4
5	hotfirex	3
6	vinnie_tesla	3
7	mindhex	3
8	trevorness	2
9	spiralwitch	1
10	pandoras_evil_t	1

( 11-11 )
Total Commenters: 13 (2 not shown)
Total Comments: 84
Report generated 12/1/07 7:28:16 AM by scrapdog's LJ Comment Stats Wizard 1.7

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Mmmmm, what a cock-stiffening year I could be having! Spending more time with both my Bonnies, and passing them around to deprived and hungry strangers.

And sneaking off to go writing, too? Woo hoo!!

Well OK, since we're stealing ...

And that "cuckold in an adultery" ... have people been reading my stuff?

Yes, and there were twelve trillion results, none of which are me.

As I wrote at the end of the first installment, "later that afternoon, after I was home from work, there was to be another surprise ..."  

What paved the way for it was that almost as soon as I had gotten back to work, I had gotten a phone call from Bonnie.  She was very serious.  "We have to talk," she said.  

Immediately my heart sank.  I just knew she was going to tell me that what had happened had been a wild, spontaneous mistake, that it was wrong, that it couldn't continue.  But as much as I dreaded the outcome, I felt like I had to meet with her.  She asked me to meet her somewhere away from our apartment building, so Tom wouldn't see one or the other of our cars missing, (and the other one there, but no one home), and suspect that the two of us were together.  We agreed on the place and time, and I spent the rest of the afternoon obsessing about the talk to come.

After work, I drove directly to the agreed upon spot, and Bonnie was already there waiting.  She motioned for me to get in and ride with her.  That made me even more apprehensive, as we were going to be on her turf.  Her greeting was warm as I got inside her car, but there was no effort at affection of any kind.  I noticed that she had changed int a blouse and jeans.

Bonnie drove us out along some two lane roads until we came to a small park.  We pulled into the otherwise empty parking lot and parked.  It was a gray, chilly day in March, but there were a few kids playing on swings in the distance.  The engine idled so the car stayed warm as Bonnie turned to me.  Then came the surprise.

If we were going to continue, Bonnie told me, there had to be some rules, and I needed to agree to them.  She told me that Tom had a vasectomy, and because of that she had no reason or excuse to use birth control.  So most of the sex was going to be oral.  There were going to be only rare opportunities for me to shoot my seed into her cunt.  The rest of the time, if we did it at all, I had to agree to pull out before I climaxed.  By then my heart was pounding with excitement once again!  Of course I agreed to that!  And I meant it.  

Bonnie also swore me to absolute secrecy.  Tom was never to know, and neither were my friends or acquaintances or anyone else.  We had to be circumspect and proper whenever we were around them.  She didn't want Tom to discover us, or hear about it from a third party (perhaps a jealous one) because I'd blabbed.  I agreed to that as well.



After I had agreed to everything, she flew into my arms with the same passion and intensity she'd had during our earlier tryst.  It happened all over again ... the kissing, the touching and fondling, and soon her jeans and my slacks were unbuttoned and unzipped, and my cock was hard in her hand while I fingered her.  Then her head slid down my chest to my lap, and once again I felt the heavenly sensation of my cock slididng into her mouth.  Oh yes, oh god yes, I thought.  It's going to keep happening!  It's going to be like this over and over!  I was elated, I was ecstatic!

Again, I brushed back her hair to watch while she did it.  I was so excited, stroking her hair, grasping onto it.  And then again, knowing this time that she wanted it, that she was hungry for it, I shot my seed into her mouth and she swallowed it all down her throat.  "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated again, over and over, just like the first time.  Her voice was charged with emotion.  God, I thought to myself.  She loves doing it, she really loves it!

Somehow the dreary day seemed a thousand times brighter.  She drove me back to my car and we arranged to arrive back at the apartments at widely different times.  And so continued the first day of the heavenly nine months that was to follow!

 ... after I spent a good hour detailing what the additional surprise was that day, then having my computer crash and lose the whole account.

Crap!

When I began the last part, I wrote, “I had initially thought after Bonnie’s confession that it had all been a deliberate conspiracy, that she had specifically invited him and he had accepted, that the whole thing had been planned and orchestrated in the dim lights of that bar that second time they met.” Then I went on to say that it hadn’t turned out to be that way. It had been more spontaneous on Gary’s part, as he was able to sniff out that my wife was lonely and sex-starved and willing, even anxious, to be “in play.” The result was that thrilling day that began on our kitchen floor, and didn’t end until Gary was limp and drained and she was satiated and sore.



But there were to be more trysts in the months that followed, until we moved to a different city, and Bonnie saw it as an opportunity to cut her strings from someone who, as she wrote me in our dialogue, she “never really cared for.” But during those months before the move, there were other meetings for indulgence in all-day sex, and those meetings were “planned and orchestrated.” And they took place at Gary’s apartment. But at the same time, Bonnie’s account of their experiences began to waver, as she sensed my distress at what I was hearing.

But still, there was much that she revealed. Bonnie got our babysitter to watch the kids all day while they went off together. Yes, Bonnie told me, she could tell from the expression on the babysitter’s face that she knew my wife was with another man. She could see from inside the house that it was a different car, a different face inside the car, waiting for her. She also admitted that Gary was probably the kind of guy who would have publicly bragged about the married woman he was fucking, would have pointed us out to his friends when we ran into them socially, as we sometimes did. Yes, I was surely pointed out as her cuckold, the husband who couldn’t satisfy his wife, or stop her from finding the cock she craved elsewhere. As this was revealed to me like a slap across the face, my face burned with the humiliation of it all.

And I had learned more details of their days together: of how Gary pressured her to perform new and (until then) taboo sex acts. “He wanted to fuck me in the ass,” she told me, “but I wouldn’t let him.” And during the same conversation she asked me, “how would you feel if you knew there were pictures?” I got a rush from that, imagining Gary having his photographic mementos of my wife, naked and displayed for the camera as she had displayed herself so often for him. And perhaps with a tripod and timer, the two of them together, frantically mating, their faces contorted in ecstasy, a feast for his eyes and to feed his memories and brag to his friends. But she had hastened to add, before my thoughts could stammer out the question, “there aren’t any, but there could have been.”

I wondered for a long time why Gary didn’t just make her do it, the way he just took what he wanted that first day. Especially in his own apartment, on his own turf, he had all the advantages and all the strength. If he had really wanted to fuck her in the ass, he could have put her down and done it. If he had wanted to take pictures, he could have pressured her until she gave in. Had he gotten her wasted, as he apparently didn’t do, her inhibitions would have plunged and she might have done anything. What a triumph it would have been for him, to be able to establish complete sexual domination over my wife! What a thrill to be able to say, “I’m fucking her, and I have proof!”

The only explanation that eventually made sense to me, was that Gary was getting so much from Bonnie that he didn’t want to risk future meetings by pushing her too far. She was apparently the hottest fuck that he’d ever had, she could fuck all day until he couldn’t take any more, and she was another man’s wife. Why risk all that by insisting on things she may have been helpless to prevent, but who could have cut him off from any future meetings?

And I have every reason to believe there was something else he was getting. It was something Bonnie mentioned briefly in passing, then later backed away from altogether in the most provocative of ways. During her confessions, she had admitted to sucking Gary’s cock “once … briefly.” But she wouldn’t say if she meant just that first day, or ever. She had also begun dramatizing some of the things she and Gary had done, using me as a prop to play the part of Gary, showing me how he had held her and touched her and kissed her, sitting and standing and lying down. It was twisted and distressing and exciting, all at the same time. My wife not just confessing what they’d done together, but showing me! The air was filled with erotic tension. The admissions were so graphic, so powerful. And yet there continued to be the aura of suggestion and innuendo that spoke of things still secret, still unspoken … perhaps in her judgment too daring or pain-inflicting to admit.

Bonnie had no problem with telling me about the fucking they did, and in the deepest detail. She told me about how he had pulled off to the side of the road on that first trip to his apartment, because “he just couldn’t wait,” and the two of them fucked in his car while the traffic whizzed by no more than 10 feet away. She told me about the marathon sex in his apartment … days and days of it in the 6 or so months it lasted. But for her, that was easy to admit, because it was all about things she willingly did with me as well.



Oh, but there were the tormenting hints! She showed me how, one day at Gary’s apartment, he had taken a shower while she waited in the living room, or perhaps it was the bedroom. When he emerged, he was wrapped around the waist with a towel, knotted at the side. Bonnie got me to my feet, showed me how she had approached Gary, how they had embraced, and then how she had fallen to her knees before him. He reached out to caress her head, she said, as she showed me how she reached out to untie the knot securing his towel. …

Then suddenly she stopped, refusing to go any further. By that time I was frantic with anticipation. Oh, I knew what she did, I just knew! I wanted to hear it, wanted to hear her admit it. Oh, tell me darling, my thoughts begged. Tell me how you removed his towel and then stayed on your knees and went for it and sucked his cock while he gazed down at you, caressing your head, seizing you by the hair while he watched you do it!

Oh yes, I thought, you found the perfect compromise between the things he wanted to do to you and the things you would allow, didn’t you, my angel? You must have been thinking about it ever since that first day in our apartment, when he introduced his cock to your mouth. You kissed and licked and sucked that big cock, so straight and hard for you, didn’t you, darling? You knew by then that even after he shot his load in your mouth, he’d be ready for more sex again within minutes. And Michael had told you how he loved thinking about you doing it to other men, even when you wouldn’t do it to him. Oh, why not, she must have been thinking. It’s what guys want. It’s what guys love. Why not be the girl who would do it? Why not be the girl who would blow their minds?

But Bonnie wouldn’t admit anything. All she would say as she backed away from her little piece of theatre was, “This isn’t the kind of thing a wife should be telling her husband.” I slowly retreated back into denial, but remaining obsessed with the thought of it, while Bonnie went back to seeking sex elsewhere. It was not to be for years, until she finally demonstrated her cocksucking talents, then made her litany of apologies as she led me to her bed, that I was finally forced to abandon my denial and admit to myself what my hot little wife had begun to do for other men in her secret world. And how she had learned to love doing it, because the guys loved it! Oh yes, my fantasies had been true … and the guys knew about her, they talked about her, they targeted her, the word got out about her. Barstool Bonnie, my hot little cocksucker wife!

In a way, while our marriage continued, not knowing was more torment than the admission would have been. The hints and innuendo lent a new intensity to my fantasies, reaching deeper and deeper into the core of my being, enticing me to let go of my fears and enjoy the new and tempting urges that washed over me. And so I gave in to them. But those hints, along with her denials, also gave me more uncertainty to wrestle with, a vagueness that gave Bonnie room to backtrack and equivocate and deny, and more cushion for me to be able to pretend that in real life, nothing like the betrayals of my deep imagination had actually happened.

Oh my fantasies were so delicious, the way they had been when I had first shared them with her. They were electric, they were alive, especially after she told me of another incident on her knees, this time in Gary’s kitchen, when she asked him for a ruler, and used it to measure his erect cock. “He was 9 inches,” she told me almost matter-of-factly, crushing me with the truth that he was so much larger and that she had been able to take it all inside.

But what had she done on her knees that day, after she had measured him? Despite my begging to know, she wouldn’t tell me what happened. But did I really need to guess where that 9 inches went, with her face, her mouth so close to it? With his hand on her head and his fingers grasping her hair? How could I continue to live in denial? How could I obsess over thoughts of her kissing and licking and caressing and tugging on his cock and taking it deep in her mouth, and sucking, sucking until her inexperienced mouth was sore? How could I wilt from imagining Gary getting what he wanted and his semen pumping, pumping inside her mouth and my wife swallowing, swallowing everything, and still pretend to myself that it wasn’t real, that it didn’t happen?

And yet, until we split for good and I had my own experiences with other men’s wives and the things they would do to please a man, and until Bonnie added her own graphic “cocksucker confession,” I still managed to deny to myself that it had happened. I still continued to let her go out, continuing to live in my upside-down world where my fantasies turned out to be true, and my world of denial turned out to be the biggest fantasy of all, as Bonnie exploited her freedom and “became bad,” as she was eventually to admit.

After years of thinking about it and gaining insight into it, I’ve concluded that what prompted Gary to show up at the door of our apartment one October day in 1973, while I was at work, was sheer opportunism. He had been attracted to Bonnie, had sniffed for clues about whether or not she might be available, about whether or not she was worth the risk, and decided that she was. I had initially thought after Bonnie’s confession that it had all been a deliberate conspiracy, that she had specifically invited him and he had accepted, that the whole thing had been planned and orchestrated in the dim lights of that bar that second time they met.

But Bonnie always denied that, insisting that she had extended no specific invitations. And in retrospect I think that was probably true. It’s not that she wasn’t a liar about some things. It’s just that her lies always seemed to unravel because of the force of her own anger and defiance. She couldn’t help attacking me where I was weakest … my own insecurities about her and myself. That’s why her stories tended to evolve, as her short-term needs to score points or get the upper hand drove her to reveal more of the scary truth than she had previously acknowledged.

So when Bonnie’s stories evolved, they tended to move from more of a lie to more true. And when they didn’t change, they tended to have been the truth in the first place. And that’s how I learned that all my suspicions, all my elemental fears about Gary and my wife had been true … when I learned like a slap across the face that the times when Bonnie had taunted me with words like, “if you knew about some of the things that have happened to me, you’d freak out,” it wasn’t just to score argument points. No, they were real admissions about her secret life.

And eventually, after years of teases and taunts and an ever-evolving account, the full confession came. The context of that night is a story in itself, irrelevant to this account. Just suffice it to say that the confession, when it came, was mercilessly blunt and graphic and detailed, and, at least as far as that first meeting when Gary showed up at our door, she held nothing back. That’s how I know in such detail everything that happened that day, and came to learn over time what her motives were in doing it.

Gary's real motives were clear from the beginning, but it was only gradually that I began to see things from his perspective and even begin to identify with what he had done. He had been confident and bold, had seen what he wanted in the blue eyed blonde with the shapely legs and the hot little ass, sized up the danger and the opportunity, and decided that going after cunt from the hot, lonely wife was worth the risk. And so he went for it.

Gary got no direct invitation to show up at our door, but he got an indirect one. I think he could read what the two of us, Bonnie and I, were broadcasting about our relationship as a couple, with me leaving her alone with other men while I shot darts. And I think he sensed in Bonnie the hints of loneliness and frustrated desire. Although I was bigger than Gary, he was in better condition and far more muscular, and carried the confidence bordering on arrogance of the Alpha Male. I think he had sized me up that first night at our booth and concluded that I was probably someone he didn’t have to fear. I also think that the second time he ran into Bonnie, when she was out at the bar alone, it confirmed some of his suspicions, and he concluded that it was me who was wearing the panties of the family, and Bonnie was ready to experience a real man.

And so Gary took a day off work and boldly went to see my wife. If he guessed she would be glad to see him, he was right. After all the deception and lies and evolving stories about him coming to see her, the truth came rolling out in a tidal wave of brazen and shameless admission. No, she hadn’t been expecting him, and was dressed for housework in an old miniskirt and blouse and penny loafers, with no pantyhose or bra. As they talked on the front stoop, the kids (who had been her biggest alibi) hovered around. She was glad to see him, happy for a break in her daily boredom. Yes, she willingly invited him inside.

As she led him up the steps to our apartment, she could sense his eyes on her. Even on the front porch, his stare was feasting on her, and as she led him upward, with his burning eyes focused on her legs, her ass, it gave her a shiver of excitement. Once inside, she made coffee for them and they sat at the kitchen table, talking. The kids, who were 3 and almost 2, played throughout the apartment. Then, they began to pester Bonnie to be allowed to go outside and play. When Bonnie said OK, she was conscious that she was leaving herself alone with Gary. She was admittedly anxious to know what might happen then. And for Gary, Bonnie’s invitation for him to come inside must have begun to take on an even more exciting meaning.

After sending the kids outside, Bonnie finished her cup of coffee with Gary, then began rinsing their coffee cups out in the sink. By that time, Gary must have been in a state of controlled excitement, burning with lust. And quickly, decisively, he acted. With her back turned, Bonnie suddenly became aware that Gary was directly behind her. One arm wrapped suddenly around her neck, grasping her by the shoulder, his body pinning her against the counter. She felt his other hand on her bare legs, sliding forcefully up beneath her skirt. Within what seemed like a heartbeat, his hand, his fingers, had reached her crotch. “He started playing with my ass,” she told me during her confession.

There was nothing she could do, she said almost matter-of-factly about the way he began to roughly caress her. He was too strong. And she couldn’t (no, wouldn’t) cry out, because that “would have freaked out the kids.” My shocked expression didn't stop her from telling me that she had welcomed it. “It started feeling really good,” she admitted.

I don’t think at that point Gary realized he might have a willing partner in his hands. He was committed and things were going to be played out. He continued treating Bonnie like she was in full resistance mode. He used his superior strength to take her down on the kitchen floor, atop the dusty carpet in front of the sink. He pinned her arms beneath her, neutralizing any resistance with her own weight and his. He used his free hand to undo the buttons of her blouse, exposing her tits. Then he pushed her skirt up around her hips and went to work on her body. He mauled her tits, pinching her nipples, turning them black and blue with bruises and sending waves of pain and pleasure coursing through her. Then he went to work on her cunt, slipping his fingers up beneath the elastic leg holes of her panties and fingered her while he leered down at what he was doing to her, and watched her squirm.

By then Bonnie was on fire. Her body was alive with pleasure, rocketing towards ecstasy. Gary may have thought at that instant that her writhing and squirming beneath him were the fading echoes of resistance, but in fact it was the symptom of her surrender to the pleasure that was overtaking her.

Oh, god, it felt so good, what he was doing to her! She was absolutely shameless in admitting it to me. She moaned in anticipation as he slid down her panties, leaving them dangled around one ankle in his haste. She lay there passively, her legs spread, attempting to hide nothing from his leering eyes, burning with lust as he drank in the sight of her. Her heart pounding in anticipation, she watched as he began unzipping his pants … getting out his cock.

And what a cock! It was so long, so straight and hard. Hard for her! Oh god yes! At last something was happening to her! Someone really wanted her! And for him, there was the first stirring of the realization that he had been right about everything, that Bonnie was a lonely, sex starved wife who was dying for a real man’s cock. And the proof was right at hand. He lowered himself onto her, steered the head of his cock to her entry, felt the syrupy wetness of her as he began to penetrate, felt her hips begin to buck and thrust, assisting him.

He felt the tightness of her, pressing in against his cock, then the seeming wall of resistance he encountered part way inside, and he knew then what he had only suspected until then, that he was so much bigger than me. It must have been a thrilling confirmation for him. Yes, he had more to give her than her husband did, more to work her and get her off. Yes, this hot little wife was going to know before the day was over what it was like to have a real man and a real cock. And in their own home as well! The thought must have given him a shiver of delight. He was getting another man's wife, and in their own home! And there were so many things he wanted to do to her. Who could guess where it might lead?

And then he went to work on her, pushing, driving, forcing his cock deeper and deeper inside her, making her gasp, knowing he was reaching depths inside her that her husband had never reached, could never reach. And despite the discomfort of being stretched and forced open, my wife was also drowning in pleasure, and was helping him by then, thrusting upwards to match his downward thrusts, straining, working, feeling him go deeper, deeper, wanting him to go deeper, and yes, crying out for him to go deeper … until at last their pelvic bones pressed together, their sweat- and mucous-soaked pubic hair commingled … Oh, yes, he was all inside!

And then the real fucking began, and the kitchen came alive with the grunts and moans and animal sounds of two wild creatures in heat. There was an abandon in her that took her breath away. Oh, yes, this is what she wanted, what she had been dying for! And so forbidden, so dirty, so exciting! In their frenzy, the fury of her own passion matched his own. They began sharing long open mouth kisses while their bodies found the frantic rhythm of mutual lust. Bonnie became almost mindless with ecstasy. “Oh, do it, do it,” she heard herself begging, the dirty words pouring out of her. “Do it to me … oh, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” And somewhere in the wild explosion of orgasms she began to experience, she felt the first expression of his own orgasmic release, felt his seed jetting inside her, making her feel cozy and happy and wet. Oh god yes, she loved it!

But there was more to Gary than being an overzealous one timer. He did not cum in large quantities, but he was ready for more within a few minutes. And it began again and consummated again, and went on like that all day, all over our apartment … on the floor, on the beds and the couch. The only breaks came when the kids needed to come inside for potty breaks and to have lunch. How many times did they do it? How many times did he shoot his cum inside her? Was it 5 or 6 or 7? And god, how many orgasms had he given her? They just kept cumming and cumming and cumming, driving her wild in the way she had been dying for. In the end, lost in the unceasing bliss she was experiencing, she didn’t remember.

And sometime during that wild morning and afternoon, Gary introduced his semen- and cunt-soaked cock to her mouth. Oh the aroma was so pungent, so intoxicating, so tempting to her. He couldn’t have imagined how much she loved it, loved the taste and smell of sex. Oh yes, yes, she just had to drink it in, had to have a taste … She did it willingly, taking him inside her mouth, feeling him pushing back towards her throat. Yes she knew it, knew what he wanted her to do. But she did it only briefly, she insisted, conscious that for years she had denied me, being careful not to bury me in an avalanche of revelation I might not be able to handle. Oh, yes, she had reasons to lie … and even if her description of “only briefly” was true that day, there were to be other days, when Gary had her on his own home ground. And there were so many things he wanted to do to her …

By late afternoon, Gary was limp and drained. Even though he made Bonnie so sore she had to refuse sex with me that night, she was able to take everything he had to give. Before he left, he told her she was the only woman who had ever been able to keep up with him. Talking about me, Gary told her, “you’re too much woman for him.”

That night, getting ready for bed, Bonnie brazenly and deliberately allowed me to see the bruises covering her body. It was another sexual taunt, from which she retreated with lies. Then once in bed, with my own excitement having been stirred by the suspicions I had, she refused me sex, telling me she was “too sore.” When I accused her of spending the day fucking another man, she denied it.

But if the soreness and the bruises weren’t proof enough, there was more, had I sought it out. The kids knew, and I knew they knew, if mommy had company that day. They would have told me about the blond guy who came to visit mommy and stayed all day while they had to stay outside, and weren't allowed to come in. They would have told me, had I asked them. But I didn’t ask. When I asked Bonnie what would have happened, had I asked, she told me, “then I would have been caught.”

I think more than anything, that failure to ask was the manifestation of my search for denial. I showed that despite the most graphic evidence of adultery by my wife, I didn’t seem to want to confront it or know about it, nor do anything about it. And she was beginning to realize it. Oh yes! She wasn’t getting what she wanted at home, but there was so much cock out there for her, wanting to be inside her, working her, cumming in her, thrilling her. And with a husband who left her feeling lonely and starving, and allowed her to put herself into the most tempting environments, oh, god, why not do it?

Thanks to an interested fan, I am finally going on this. The photo is of Bonnie at just about the time the events of this day occurred.

Driving myself crazy this morning, watching some video of short clips, with a whole segment on closeups of beautiful young women sucking cocks and some being jacked off on, and being splattered with gooey, runny cum all over their sweet faces.

What turned me on so much is imagining those women were my Bonnie, my dirty cocksucking wife. Oooh, that still gets me the most, her revelation that she had become a cocksucker out in the dark in other men's cars, and her hints that maybe it happened at coke parties, too, where her gift to the party was her body and especially her hot mouth. Maybe it's because she lied and told me she hated doing it that gets me, while in her secret back alley life she was doing it and doing it, until her mouth was a soft warm wet cucoon for a cock to get off inside, just like her hot wet snatch.



It must be the cuckold in me, to be thrilled by the thought of what she'd done, by the thought of the triumph, the euphoria that men must have felt, getting their cocks inside her mouth, seeing the wedding ring on her finger while she caressed them and jerked them off, knowing she was someone's wife, and probably knowing she was my wife. Oooooh, and then to have emptied themselves inside her mouth and down her throat and all over her lovely young face!



Yes, I know I'm going to be jacking off right after I finish this. And I think it's what I would have done if I'd ever caught her. I was weak and unassertive and easily aroused by dirty situations then, and I'm pretty that if I'd caught her, I would have snuck close, I would have hid, I would have watched and listened with feelings of shock and betrayal and excitement and lust.

And then oh, oh, oh, when they let go and drowned her in semen, I would have been half crazy with humiliation and desire, knowing they'd tell, knowing that everyone would know that my wife was in play, that every guy with predatory impulses would be talking about her and hitting on her. I would have been thinking about all those nights when she'd been out alone, when she'd returned home to our bed with the taste of cum still on her tongue, with her stomach and her cunt filled with another lover's seed. Oh, yes, it would have been so shocking! And then, while the other man's semen splattered all over and inside my wife, my own would be spurting, squirting uselessly into the air, feeding weak and my depraved appetite.

I just created a userpic from this photo, but it's really hard to read so I decided to just post it to my journal.

The way my wife got bolder and bolder, making eye contact with other men, even while I was with her, she may as well have had this written all over her, because it was obvious in her eyes.

My wife evolved into a dirty talker, where she began begging and pleading for cock, begging for me to get her off. She began moaning, hissing, "oh god please do it, do it to me," and "yes, yes, go deep, go deep inside," and "oh please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" while we were doing it. It became very exciting for both of us, because she was a multiorgasmic little tramp in bed, and I knew she loved what was happening to her.

But then there came the series of conversations when she confessed that there had not been enough of that at home, that in her frustration and ravenous sexual hunger, she had been tempted, then seduced by other men, who she had given in to in order to fill the needs I hadn't satisfed. It was shocking, like a slap across the face, to hear her admit that she had begged and pleaded with them to drive her to heaven with their cocks, just like she had begged me.

She knew how humiliating it was going to be for me for her to tell me everything, to know she had talked to other men like that while they lay naked in each other's arms, enjoying their adulterous mating. She understood from the beginning the humiliation she was thrusting upon me, as the husband of a woman who felt driven to go out looking for cock, who in her most intimate adulterous moments cried out in desperation for it; who knew the anguish and humiliation that was going to be thrust upon me because of her adulteries, and her confessions.

She knew the humiliation I was going to experience, of knowing what she'd done; of knowing I had met her secret lovers afterward, blind to what they had shared together, blind to the meaning of the looks they had exchanged with my wife, blind to the meaning of the smirks they shared with their friends.  But then the humiliation, to at last be told!  All that time, and they and my wife embraced in a conspiracy of sex and silence!  And of learninging that my wife had not only done it with them, but had begged them for it, begged them for cock, begged them for the orgasms she was dying for. But she couldn't help it, she admitted. Just as with her confessions, the words just poured out of her as part of a massive catharsis, a complete letting go.  "Oh, yes, yes," she begged them, "please fuck me, oh please!"

It took time, and even a period of impotence that was certainly a product of both humiliation and anger, before I was able to come to terms with it all. And of course, as I was to eventually learn, that impotence and cold anger only made her hunger, her desperation, her inability to resist her weaknesses, all the greater ...