Stacey was always gorgeous. When we met I was 19; she was 16. I was immediately taken by her beautiful, long, blonde hair. An ultra-cute pug nose. Perfect teeth. Very seductive brown eyes with slight cleopatra style mascara. Large gold hoop ear rings that sparkled. Full, pouty lips. Modest but firm breasts with small pink nipples. A flat little tummy. The most voluptuous thighs you've ever seen that surrounded a small light brown patch of pubic hair protecting very light pink vaginal lips. And when she walked, everything moved just right. The first time we went out we ended up at a friend's house rolling around on a bed. Clothes on, but still hot. She loved to make out, as did I.
By the third date, we had sex. I loved the way she put her wonderful thighs high in the air and dangled her toes over my ass as I thrust into her. I knew she was experienced, and she had quite a reputation for sex with several guys I knew. All that did was turn me on! Every time we dated we had sex. I always pulled out when I came to avoid pregnancy and she didn't seem to mind the pearl drops on her tummy each time. But she seemed a bit cautious about sex at times, a surprising attitude given her list of previous sex partners.
One night, while lying together, I asked her just how many guys she had really fucked. I was so curious. She hesitated at first, then kind of winced, then confessed, "Ten." An electric charge went through me. Wow, 16 years old and she'd already had 10 cocks inside her.
I asked her, "Well that's with me included, right?"
Shaking her head no, she said, "You're the eleventh."
From that point on, every time we fucked, I fantasized about all her other partners, wondering if she ever thought about any of them as I fucked her. I was quite proud to boast that I was the first guy she ever gave a blow job to, apparently, the previous ten guys were turned down for that task, but I was the lucky winner. She got pretty good at it, and, even though she didn't like the taste, I got to come in her mouth from time to time.
One thing always bothered me. Stacey had never had a climax. She said it was something about herself that she could never reach that magic goal, that I and others certainly did not fail her. "I hope someday I will cum with you." she used to pine. Yet, she was always happy after we fucked or 69ed.
Fast forward. Stacey and I got married. I was 21, she was 18. Despite having a very wealthy ******, she opted to skip college and settle down with me. Actually, after the wedding, the sex became less and less frequent. She was now even more beautiful, even more desirable, yet we were just not getting into it like we should. I thought maybe it was some kind of phase she was going through. I used to wake her in the morning with my tongue inside her pussy, but all it seemed to do is make her angry rather than aroused.
Within a year we had moved to the west coast. My job transferred me there, and for the first time, she and I were completely on our own. But things were more strained, and in fact, on our first anniversary when I wooed her to make love, she turned me down. She actually said she just wasn't interested. I didn't know what to think. About a week later, she was out shopping after dinner and I had the apartment to myself. Perhaps out of boredom if not curiosity I started looking through her pantie drawer. She always wore the sexiest panties, and just seeing them gave me major wood. As I dug down through all the layers of sheer, silky panties I came upon a spiral notebook, the kind you use for compositions in school. I'd never seen it before. I opened it and started reading. At first I thought it was like a letter from one her friends, but it didn't take long for me to recognize the handwriting as Stacey's.
"Well, it happened," the first line read.
"What the fuck is this?" I thought. It dawned on me I was reading a diary passage. My heart skipped a beat then started beating faster as I read the most devastating story of my entire life.
"He asked me to lunch," the story continued. "He was really nice. We talked and talked. He's the best looking guy at my work and I really like him."
I couldn't believe my eyes. I read each word as carefully as I could.
"He came over today while Jay was at work and we kissed on the couch. Then we went into the bedroom. I had to put the kitties out in the hall and close the bedroom door so they wouldn't bother us."
"As I took off my skirt he said he really liked my panties, and he also said 'What thighs!' I was so nervous and excited! We both got naked and down on the bed. He ate me and I blew him (nice talk!) Then we did it. I asked him to please be gentle. It was fantastic! I had chills all over me as we did it. Then we did it backwards and that was fantastic, too! He fell out of me for a second and I could hear his cock slap down on his thigh. It was really big but I pushed him back into me, slowly, gently, until it was finally as far in as I could take it and we just went on and on."
"I could feel the head of his cock hitting way deep inside of me and every time it hit bottom I felt this wave of excitement go right through me. It was like I was having sex for the very first time! He came inside me and I told him I'd never had a climax before and he couldn't believe it. Then he promised me that next time he was sure to give me an orgasm. I don't know yet when that will be, but all I know is, I want to see him again and again and again!"
Oh my fucking God.
Not only had I found out that my wife of one year was cheating on me, I got a full blow by blow description of how, when, where and why, something most people who catch a cheating spouse have the mercy of never really knowing. I read it again. And again. My world completely changed. I felt betrayed. Humiliated. A total loser. I wondered how many other people knew. I also wondered if this guy was better in bed than I was. I imagined that he was some stud with a large cock that completely captivated her. I could almost hear the two of them laughing as she described my average 6 inch cock in comparison to his much larger member. I knew I wasn't that big, but I never thought of myself as inadequate. I'd fucked quite a few girls in my life too, and never got a complaint. But now, I felt like I had the dick of a 12-year old boy and that Stacey was now spoiled by some stallion.
When she got home, I immediately confronted her with the diary. Her first reaction: "That's private stuff, you had no right!"
I slapped her across the face, though not hard, and announced "We're through." I left and went to a motel. Within a couple of hours I called her back and said, "Look, we have to talk."
I drove back to the apartment and when I walked in she looked a bit remorseful, but not all that sorry. I think she was only reacting to getting caught. I told her I wanted sex with her right now, and set out to do her exactly as she had done it as described in the diary. It didn't take her long to pick up on this intentional routine, yet all she could ask was, "What are you doing?"
I said, "Don't you think I'm as good at this as he is?" She didn't answer. I asked her how big he was.
She made a nasty face and said, "I didn't notice."
I pressed the issue. "C'mon, is he bigger than me sexually. Is he? C'mon I've got to know!"
She relented, "Yes."
I said, "A LOT bigger?"
"Will you quit??" she shouted.
My heart was in my throat when I asked again, "Is he a lot bigger than me, Stacey?"
She just looked at me, and raised her eyebrows almost apologetically saying, "Yes, Jay, a lot bigger."
My heart was beating a mile a minute. I started to get angry. "You'd better not see him again!" I snarled, "Promise me you won't see him again!"
"I can't do that." she answered.
"Why?" I almost whimpered. "Is he that good in bed you're just throwing me away? Wait, tell me, is his cock longer than mine, or fatter than mine?"
She wouldn't answer at first, then said, "Well shit I didn't measure it."
"Tell me!" I screamed almost frantically.
"Look," she said, "I couldn't get my fingers all the way around it, okay?"
"Okay," I said, "so it was just a little fatter than mine, right?" Again no answer.
"Well???" I demanded.
"I never thought the size of a cock could make any big difference," she cried, "but he proved to me that I've been missing so much in my life. I feel like I'm having real sex now for the first time. I don't want to live life without it anymore. I need that kind of sex from now on. Yes, from guys with bigger cocks. I'm sorry, Jay. I'm so sorry! But from now on, that's the way it is!"
The marriage didn't survive much longer. Before we completely split, she'd had at least three other guys that I know of. She'd often come home late at night or even the next morning never telling me where she was or who she'd been with.
One trick I pulled is to retrieve her panties from the hamper when she wasn't around. Sure enough, many times I found the crusty residue of dried semen and the sweet smell of sex on the crotch. I'd put the panty over my face and smell it as I masturbated, pretending I was eating her fresh fucked pussy each time.
She never really gave me details of her adventures, and I never did find another diary. But on the day I signed the divorce papers she did announce as I was leaving, almost proudly, "The sex I'm having is amazing and fantastic all the time! I've had climaxes and it's wonderful! I'm doing stuff I never thought I'd do! Done it on boats and planes and so many places! I want to get all the sex I can from all the hot guys out there for as long as I can!"
"You really crave the big cocks, don't you?" I said snottily, trying to put her down.
Marveling at that beautiful face of hers and the crotch of her jeans puckered over her pussy in a perfect camel toe, she smiled like a debutant and answered, "Yup! Bye bye now!" and closed and locked the door. I could hear her phone ring as I walked away. Probably her next date.
Her final goodbye cut so deeply there was a pain in my chest for months. She never wished me well or even good luck finding someone new. I was now a complete stranger who she had absolutely no feelings about one way or the other.
Then I moved out. I was 23. She was just 20. For me, my life was all but over. Hers had just begun. It's been quite a while since I found the diary. Years in fact. But I still remember every word. And still imagine everything she did as if I had been watching. Sometimes I wish I had been there. Or do I?
By the third date, we had sex. I loved the way she put her wonderful thighs high in the air and dangled her toes over my ass as I thrust into her. I knew she was experienced, and she had quite a reputation for sex with several guys I knew. All that did was turn me on! Every time we dated we had sex. I always pulled out when I came to avoid pregnancy and she didn't seem to mind the pearl drops on her tummy each time. But she seemed a bit cautious about sex at times, a surprising attitude given her list of previous sex partners.
One night, while lying together, I asked her just how many guys she had really fucked. I was so curious. She hesitated at first, then kind of winced, then confessed, "Ten." An electric charge went through me. Wow, 16 years old and she'd already had 10 cocks inside her.
I asked her, "Well that's with me included, right?"
Shaking her head no, she said, "You're the eleventh."
From that point on, every time we fucked, I fantasized about all her other partners, wondering if she ever thought about any of them as I fucked her. I was quite proud to boast that I was the first guy she ever gave a blow job to, apparently, the previous ten guys were turned down for that task, but I was the lucky winner. She got pretty good at it, and, even though she didn't like the taste, I got to come in her mouth from time to time.
One thing always bothered me. Stacey had never had a climax. She said it was something about herself that she could never reach that magic goal, that I and others certainly did not fail her. "I hope someday I will cum with you." she used to pine. Yet, she was always happy after we fucked or 69ed.
Fast forward. Stacey and I got married. I was 21, she was 18. Despite having a very wealthy ******, she opted to skip college and settle down with me. Actually, after the wedding, the sex became less and less frequent. She was now even more beautiful, even more desirable, yet we were just not getting into it like we should. I thought maybe it was some kind of phase she was going through. I used to wake her in the morning with my tongue inside her pussy, but all it seemed to do is make her angry rather than aroused.
Within a year we had moved to the west coast. My job transferred me there, and for the first time, she and I were completely on our own. But things were more strained, and in fact, on our first anniversary when I wooed her to make love, she turned me down. She actually said she just wasn't interested. I didn't know what to think. About a week later, she was out shopping after dinner and I had the apartment to myself. Perhaps out of boredom if not curiosity I started looking through her pantie drawer. She always wore the sexiest panties, and just seeing them gave me major wood. As I dug down through all the layers of sheer, silky panties I came upon a spiral notebook, the kind you use for compositions in school. I'd never seen it before. I opened it and started reading. At first I thought it was like a letter from one her friends, but it didn't take long for me to recognize the handwriting as Stacey's.
"Well, it happened," the first line read.
"What the fuck is this?" I thought. It dawned on me I was reading a diary passage. My heart skipped a beat then started beating faster as I read the most devastating story of my entire life.
"He asked me to lunch," the story continued. "He was really nice. We talked and talked. He's the best looking guy at my work and I really like him."
I couldn't believe my eyes. I read each word as carefully as I could.
"He came over today while Jay was at work and we kissed on the couch. Then we went into the bedroom. I had to put the kitties out in the hall and close the bedroom door so they wouldn't bother us."
"As I took off my skirt he said he really liked my panties, and he also said 'What thighs!' I was so nervous and excited! We both got naked and down on the bed. He ate me and I blew him (nice talk!) Then we did it. I asked him to please be gentle. It was fantastic! I had chills all over me as we did it. Then we did it backwards and that was fantastic, too! He fell out of me for a second and I could hear his cock slap down on his thigh. It was really big but I pushed him back into me, slowly, gently, until it was finally as far in as I could take it and we just went on and on."
"I could feel the head of his cock hitting way deep inside of me and every time it hit bottom I felt this wave of excitement go right through me. It was like I was having sex for the very first time! He came inside me and I told him I'd never had a climax before and he couldn't believe it. Then he promised me that next time he was sure to give me an orgasm. I don't know yet when that will be, but all I know is, I want to see him again and again and again!"
Oh my fucking God.
Not only had I found out that my wife of one year was cheating on me, I got a full blow by blow description of how, when, where and why, something most people who catch a cheating spouse have the mercy of never really knowing. I read it again. And again. My world completely changed. I felt betrayed. Humiliated. A total loser. I wondered how many other people knew. I also wondered if this guy was better in bed than I was. I imagined that he was some stud with a large cock that completely captivated her. I could almost hear the two of them laughing as she described my average 6 inch cock in comparison to his much larger member. I knew I wasn't that big, but I never thought of myself as inadequate. I'd fucked quite a few girls in my life too, and never got a complaint. But now, I felt like I had the dick of a 12-year old boy and that Stacey was now spoiled by some stallion.
When she got home, I immediately confronted her with the diary. Her first reaction: "That's private stuff, you had no right!"
I slapped her across the face, though not hard, and announced "We're through." I left and went to a motel. Within a couple of hours I called her back and said, "Look, we have to talk."
I drove back to the apartment and when I walked in she looked a bit remorseful, but not all that sorry. I think she was only reacting to getting caught. I told her I wanted sex with her right now, and set out to do her exactly as she had done it as described in the diary. It didn't take her long to pick up on this intentional routine, yet all she could ask was, "What are you doing?"
I said, "Don't you think I'm as good at this as he is?" She didn't answer. I asked her how big he was.
She made a nasty face and said, "I didn't notice."
I pressed the issue. "C'mon, is he bigger than me sexually. Is he? C'mon I've got to know!"
She relented, "Yes."
I said, "A LOT bigger?"
"Will you quit??" she shouted.
My heart was in my throat when I asked again, "Is he a lot bigger than me, Stacey?"
She just looked at me, and raised her eyebrows almost apologetically saying, "Yes, Jay, a lot bigger."
My heart was beating a mile a minute. I started to get angry. "You'd better not see him again!" I snarled, "Promise me you won't see him again!"
"I can't do that." she answered.
"Why?" I almost whimpered. "Is he that good in bed you're just throwing me away? Wait, tell me, is his cock longer than mine, or fatter than mine?"
She wouldn't answer at first, then said, "Well shit I didn't measure it."
"Tell me!" I screamed almost frantically.
"Look," she said, "I couldn't get my fingers all the way around it, okay?"
"Okay," I said, "so it was just a little fatter than mine, right?" Again no answer.
"Well???" I demanded.
"I never thought the size of a cock could make any big difference," she cried, "but he proved to me that I've been missing so much in my life. I feel like I'm having real sex now for the first time. I don't want to live life without it anymore. I need that kind of sex from now on. Yes, from guys with bigger cocks. I'm sorry, Jay. I'm so sorry! But from now on, that's the way it is!"
The marriage didn't survive much longer. Before we completely split, she'd had at least three other guys that I know of. She'd often come home late at night or even the next morning never telling me where she was or who she'd been with.
One trick I pulled is to retrieve her panties from the hamper when she wasn't around. Sure enough, many times I found the crusty residue of dried semen and the sweet smell of sex on the crotch. I'd put the panty over my face and smell it as I masturbated, pretending I was eating her fresh fucked pussy each time.
She never really gave me details of her adventures, and I never did find another diary. But on the day I signed the divorce papers she did announce as I was leaving, almost proudly, "The sex I'm having is amazing and fantastic all the time! I've had climaxes and it's wonderful! I'm doing stuff I never thought I'd do! Done it on boats and planes and so many places! I want to get all the sex I can from all the hot guys out there for as long as I can!"
"You really crave the big cocks, don't you?" I said snottily, trying to put her down.
Marveling at that beautiful face of hers and the crotch of her jeans puckered over her pussy in a perfect camel toe, she smiled like a debutant and answered, "Yup! Bye bye now!" and closed and locked the door. I could hear her phone ring as I walked away. Probably her next date.
Her final goodbye cut so deeply there was a pain in my chest for months. She never wished me well or even good luck finding someone new. I was now a complete stranger who she had absolutely no feelings about one way or the other.
Then I moved out. I was 23. She was just 20. For me, my life was all but over. Hers had just begun. It's been quite a while since I found the diary. Years in fact. But I still remember every word. And still imagine everything she did as if I had been watching. Sometimes I wish I had been there. Or do I?
