Monday, February 20, 2017

Temporarily Closed to New Members

Until further notice, I am not accepting new members to my private blog.  I can't keep pace with the traffic, and in addition, I am considering some major changes in the near future.  As soon as this status changes, I will post a notice on this blog.   

Monday, January 23, 2017

Running Out of Space

My private blog will soon reach the maximum number of readers allowed.  Once that happens, I will not be able to add any more members.  If you are no longer reading my private blog, please let me know so that I can remove your address and give someone else the slot.

Thank you.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

My Private Blog vs This Blog

When I started a private blog, I didn't think it would interfere with this blog, but my private blog has taken off like a rocket!  I expected a handful of readers, but it's way past that now, and since I don't have to spend time thinking up a story (like The Cheetah Dress), posting to the private blog is much faster and easier, and I post almost every day.  But if you are thinking it is a blog full of sex, you would be sorely disappointed.  Since we moved, my dalliances has decreased dramatically!

(Update: October 7, 2016, my luck may be changing.  There is a new guy I am seeing.)

To be quite honest, I'm not sure why my private blog gets so many visits, and some of the things my readers want to read about, I would have considered mundane.  I guess every day I learn a little more about the cuckold mindset.

So what is the future of this blog?  I am not sure at this point.


Saturday, September 3, 2016

Alex, the Others, and Us: A Private Blog?

One of you asked, "What ever happened to Alex?"

He's still around, but his filthy mouth gets to be a bit too much sometimes.  Also, he would like to have more sway over Jason and me, but he doesn't really have the "Ooomph!" necessary for me to allow that.  I've cooled it off with him in order to reset his thermostat.

Over time, many of you have asked "what happened with so-and-so," and for follow-ups on some of my posts about us.  I don't post much about our personal life because I always worry about saying too much and maybe someone would recognize us.  But I enjoy posting about our unique lifestyle.  And besides, it's much easier than writing a story, because I don't have to figure out what will happen or how the characters act.  I simply have write what happened.

A few days ago I noticed that Blogger will allow me to create another blog under this account.  (It took all this time for me to see it!  I'm so observant!)  I am thinking about creating a private blog that would be about our life (attempt number 2).  It would be private because I don't want our happenings to be posted out here for anyone who comes along, and it would be written just well enough to recall events.  I would not put much time into the quality of the writing itself.

Some of you are probably thinking that creating another blog would take away from my time on this blog, but I'm not sure that would be true.  I spend a great deal of time answering emails about Jason and me, so a private blog may eliminate those emails altogether.

I am not saying this will happen.  I just wanted to point out that I am considering it.  If I create a private blog, I will post a notice about it on this blog.

Assuming anyone is interested, of course.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

The Cheetah Dress, Chapter 30, Splendor

Dylan sat at his parents' kitchen table stuffing eggs and hash browns into his face like a starving man.  Ava sat across from him rocking her leg impatiently, while Dylan's mother, Sharon, sat on the other side of the table sipping coffee and grinning like a frog on a lily pad.

"Dylan prefers his eggs over-easy," she told Ava.

Ava replied with a patronizing grin.  "I know that."

Next to Dylan were salt and pepper shakers made of cute ceramic squirrels, and a bright, steel toaster, left over from the 50's.  Sharon wore a polka dot dress with three-quarter sleeves, a flaring skirt, and a fitted bodice that displayed her creamy white cleavage.  Her lipstick was bright red and her jet black hair was adorned with a ribbon.  She looked like a pin up girl, albeit a slightly plump one, and her manner of dress always seemed a tad racy for a woman who tirelessly espoused the virtues of Jesus. 

"Honey, slow down," she told her son.  "Good heavens, you're going to give yourself indigestion!"  Sharon set her cup on the table and turned to Ava.  "Ava, help yourself to some coffee, relax, and sit a spell.  Let your husband enjoy his meal.  A strong man needs a hearty breakfast."

"Strong?" Ava replied.  "I had to help him lift my suitcase into the car!"

Dylan wanted to tell Ava that she had packed just about everything except the kitchen sink, but the endless tension between her and his mother convinced him to keep a low profile.

Sharon rose from her chair with a condescending smile toward her daughter-in-law.  "Well maybe you should have cooked him a breakfast, like a good wife does," she said.  She patted Dylan on the shoulder.  "I'm going to see how Bill is doing with the kids."

The "good wife" comment was nothing new, but it was a ludicrous irony.  Sharon lorded over Dylan's father with an iron fist, and yet she often reminded Ava that the man rules the family

And she always did so while smiling proudly at her son.

Ava watched her bitch of a mother-in-law prance out of the room, and then, agitated and miffed, she turned to her fork-wielding husband.

"If we are late to Ethan's," Ava said with a sneer, "I will not be happy."

Dylan looked back to make sure his mother was gone, and in a subdued voice he exclaimed, "What do you want me to do?  She insisted on making me breakfast!"

"Why don't you try telling her 'no' for once," Ava replied.  "My God, Dylan, you're 37 years old.  Cut the apron strings already."

Dylan crammed the last remaining bits of food in his mouth, leaving nothing on his plate in order to please his mother, but hurrying his meal in order to please his wife.  He and Ava kissed the kids goodbye and trotted to the car under a light drizzle.  Dylan held the car door for his wife, and Sharon called to her son from inside the front door of her house.

"Dylan," she said, "don't forget to call your mother, hon."

"I won't, Mom."

Ava climbed into the passenger seat of her old Honda Passport and rolled her eyes.

It is an hour and a half drive from the Love home to the Strap beach house, and Dylan drove along the wet highway, staring through the windshield wipers with a serious look on his face and a lingering burn on his ass.  Ava, with her bare feet propped on the dashboard and reading glasses propped on her nose, held a parenting magazine against her thighs and read a an article titled, "Should Your Child Have a Cell Phone?"  In the relative quiet of the car, Dylan mulled his situation.

Last night, Ava had confessed to him that Ethan and Trixie owned yet another house, an old Victorian-style farm house, located on 68 acres of land, out near the old viaduct.  It was a large, two-story house that sat on a hill overlooking Hwy 9, with a split-rail fence along the front of the property and the unusual circumstance of a small guard house near the gate.  Dylan knew of the place.  He had passed by it often.  It had the strange characteristic of appearing vacant most of the time and then being crowded with cars on weekend nights and holidays. But that was because it was no longer a farm house.  It was "Splendor," an exclusive swing club.

Ethan and Trixie Strap owned a swing club, and Ava had been there several times.  She told Dylan this news as he brushed his teeth in the half-bath off their bedroom.  He spit the toothpaste and left the water running.

"What do you mean, 'a swing club'?" he asked.

Ava was standing on the other side of the bed putting lotion on her hands.  She shrugged and replied, "A swing club."

"You mean, like swingers?  Wife-swapping, sex swingers?"

"'Wife swapping?'"  Ava responded with a raised brow.  "I think the wives are swapping their husbands just as well, Dylan."

Dylan spit the remaining toothpaste, turned off the water, and stepped quickly to the bed.

"Have you been there?" he asked, his heart racing with excitement.

"A few times," Ava replied, pulling back the bed sheets.

"Who did you go with?"

"We can talk about it in the morning, okay baby?  I'm too tired to get into all that right now."

"Did you go alone or were you there with Ethan?"

"We'll talk about it in the morning," Ava said, climbing into bed.

"Did anything happen?  Just tell me a little, just something, anything!"

Ava laid her head against her pillow and closed her eyes.  "Dylan, I'm exhausted.  We've been moving all day.  We'll talk about it in the morning." She said.  "I promise."

Dylan tried to eek out just a few titillating details, begging and beseeching her for just one small morsel, but she didn't respond.  Now, as he made the drive to Ethan's beach house, he tried to imagine all the things that had gone on with his wife in a swing club, who and how many, what she did to them and what they did to her.  It was so erotic to think about all the lewd scenarios, but is was also hard to comprehend that Ava, who had always been so modest, could even walk into a place like that.

Once again, Dylan wondered if his wife had been hiding the real Ava for all these years or if something had happened to cause her to recently change.  The modest PTA mom seemed to have become a bit of slut.

Or, at least, Dylan hoped.

The rain fell heavy, and Dylan turned up the wipers to keep time.  Ava read with her feet on the dashboard, and she and her faithful husband moved down the highway shrouded inside the constant drone of rain against metal.  Dylan checked his side view mirror as a car passed on his left, shedding water in a blustering gray mist.  It was a pretty young woman in a small car crammed with household goods.  Pillows were pressed against the back window, and Dylan could see a laundry basket full of notebooks, an ironing board, and cardboard boxes.  She appeared to be a college student headed home for Christmas.  She had smooth, supple skin, and long, gorgeous blonde hair, and she drove with her body close to the steering wheel and her mind focused on the road.  She paid no attention to Dylan.

There was a whole world of beautiful women out there, short ones, tall ones, blondes, brunettes, big tits, and nice asses.  He dreamed of making the rounds and fucking his fair share, but he never really knew how to approach women.  And even if he managed to get one into bed, he knew he would just cum too soon.  And besides, he wasn't exactly "endowed."

"Every one has their talents, sweetie," Ava had once told him.  "It decides their place in life," she said.  "Like top athletes.  Would people watch baseball if the players were terrible at the game?"  The words echoed in Dylan's head as he watched the small car with the pretty young thing slowly get away.  "Your talent is that you're a great husband and father," Ava had added with a patronizing smile.  "You should be proud of that."

Dylan was a "husband."  That's what he was.  He did what Ava told him, and if she was to enjoy good sex, he would have to watch from the stands while the "top athletes" fucked his wife for him.  It was an arrangement that had already formed, and Dylan wasn't even sure how.  It seemed to have evolved out of nowhere and before he knew it, he was watching Ethan's powerful sex muscle flex, and flex, and flex, as it ejaculated hot cream into his wife's happily servicing mouth.  She moaned in approval and gladly swallowed every drop.  She had always said she didn't like cum in her mouth, but the way she relished what Ethan was pumping out made it look like the guy ejaculated warm honey.

Dylan remembered how he watched it all from the sidelines.  He was a mere spectator, and his stunningly attractive hotwife looked him straight in the eye during her performance.  She actually gloated.  Dylan, faithful and obedient, was the run-of-the-mill, average, everyday, undisputed husband.

Another car passed on his left, and Dylan snapped out of his daydream and realized his speed was decreasing.  He checked to see if Ava had noticed, and then he looked to see if his throbbing cock was noticeable through his jeans.  He took a deep breath and let it out quietly, trying to relieve the tension.

"Hey, Ava," he said.  She looked at him over the top of her reading glasses.  "What's it like inside the swing club?"

Ava closed the magazine and set it on the floor.  She removed her glasses, folded them in her lap, and turned to face him.

"How old do you think Bee should be before we get her a cell phone?"

Dylan rolled his eyes.  "Shit, Ava, I don't know!  Forget the kids for now.  You said you'd tell me about the swing club."

"You don't have to get your panties in a wad," she replied.  She thought for a moment, and then said, "There's a dance floor with lights and a DJ and all.  A bar downstairs and a bar upstairs.  There are two large rooms with big screens and couches and chairs, like movie rooms, and most of the other rooms are bedrooms, kind of decorated in different themes."

"Does everybody walk around naked?"

Ava chuckled.  "No, Dylan, it's more like a dance club.  You can if you want, I guess, but that's usually left for the bedrooms.  Most of the guys wear nicer casual attire and the women dress very sexy."

"Have you ever spent time in a bedroom?" he said.  He didn't expect her to tell the truth, but Ava replied like she was expressing a sense of entitlement.

"I have," she said proudly.  Dylan felt his pulse race.

"With Ethan?"

Ava gave him a cavalier smile.  Then she laid out her answer like a poker player lays out a winning hand.

"He was one of them," she flaunted.  Dylan felt his cock instantly turn to steel, and Ava added, "You remember Matt at the party?"  Flames of arousal flared in Dylan's chest.  His mind swirled with images of his beautiful wife on her hands and knees with Matt fucking her at one end and Ethan fucking her at the other.  Ava had two guys at one time!  It was unbelievable!

And then Dylan remembered - the two guys stood right next to him at the party!

"Wait," he said, "did Matt know about me?"

Ava smiled a crooked, devious smile.  She slowly passed her hand over the straining erection in his pants.

"Yes he did, baby," she replied with a gloat. Dylan's arousal burned hotter than ever, like a white hot fire in his gut.  Ava seemed to know how to hand out the stimulation at just the right intervals, at just the right time, like a pimp with a junkie on a leash.  "Do you like that, Dylan?" she asked softly.  Her hand seductively stroked his erection.

Dylan knew that a real man would be furious, outraged!  His wife was using him, petting him, showing him around like a puppy!  He had to take back control!  He had to show his wife he was a man

"No," he thought.  He didn't really want that.  Only his pride wanted to pretend to be "the man."

"Yes," he replied, "I like it."  His face flushed crimson red.

"Mind your manners, baby," Ava said softly.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, correcting himself.  "I like it."

He had unwittingly stood with Matt and Ethan, served them drinks even, watched them share his wife as a date, and all the while, both guys knew he was a cuckold.  His cock felt so tight he thought it might rip, and to make matters worse, Ava kept stroking it.

"I like it, too," she said playfully, watching her white-tipped fingers tease the ridge in his jeans, "and we are going to have a wonderful weekend with Ethan, don't you think?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She tugged at his belt, unbuckled it, and opened his pants.  She reached into his underwear and fished out his less-than-average stiffie.

"There's that cute, little thing," she said with a giggle.  "I knew I could find it if I tried."  She unbuckled her seat belt and moved up close to Dylan's ear.  In a seductive voice, she said, "You don't mind if I fuck Ethan all weekend, do you, baby?"  Her fingers lightly stroked her husband's meager erection.

"No, Ma'am," he replied, "I want you to."

"I know you do, because I deserve some real cock sometimes, don't I, baby?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Dylan said, staring out the windshield, "you always deserve real cock."

"But I'll give you a turn sometimes.  Don't you worry, baby.  I'm a good wife.  I'll put you on the list...somewhere."

"Yes, Ma'am."  Dylan sighed.  He could hardly concentrate.  "Somewhere would be good."

Ava pulled a stroke up Dylan's standing cock and watched it flex, causing her to giggle.  She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, "But the other guys cum first.  You have to wait.  They get it first.  You like that, don't you, cuck boy?"  Dylan tensed up and took in a breath.  Ava instantly removed her fingers.  "Don't you dare cum, Dylan!"  His meager erection flexed.  It paused.  It flexed.  Dylan held his breath.  A bead of cum formed at the tip.  He was so close!  It was right there!

His cock relaxed and he let out a deep sigh of relief.  He did not ejaculate.  It was torture, he wanted to cum so badly!  All the merciless tension had been building for days!  But Ava would have been furious if he had cum.  He thanked his lucky stars.

Ava turned forward in her seat and buckled her seat belt as if nothing had happened.  She grabbed Dylan's phone from the cup holder, dialed Ethan's number, and handed Dylan the phone.

"Tell the boss we're running late, and explain to him why," she said.  She put on her reading glasses, propped her feet on the dashboard, and went back to reading.  Dylan held the steering wheel with one hand and the phone with the other, listening to the phone ring while his cock leaked onto his underwear.  Ethan answered jovially.

"Dylan," he said, "what's up, buddy?"