Wives Who Put It About

The pretty young housewife gets up and prepares breakfast for her husband. She bustles about the kitchen wearing her shortie nightie, a white confection that shows off the perfection of her shapely legs, beneath which every now and then a brief flash of her white panties becomes visible.

The husband eats his breakfast and leaves the house, giving her a perfunctory kiss as he goes. She closes the front door behind him, and then yawns, still heavy with sleep. She turns and goes upstairs, curling up on the bed and falling asleep once more.

Half an hour later, a man comes up to the front door, turns a key in the lock, and enters. He knows just where to go. He walks upstairs and into the bedroom, looking at her as she sleeps curled up on the double bed. He looks at the round curves of her bottom, the white material of her panties stretched tightly across her buttocks. He sees the rounded curves of her breasts, rising and falling as she sleeps.

He steps forward, extends his hand, and gently strokes her between the legs. She stirs, and her hips move in her sleep, so as to rub herself against his fingers. Then she begins to awake, and rolls on her back, lifting her arms to him. He lies on the bed, and she puts her arm around his neck. She smells of sleep, and he kisses her on the lips, which are soft and dry. She opens her mouth, and he slides in his tongue, lapping at her tongue as though he is drinking from her mouth. Her hips press against him, and she feels through the white panties the firmness of his erection. His hand comes up, underneath her nightie, to close over the warm softness of her breast. She pulls off the nightie, revealing her olive flesh, her swelling breasts with their prominent pink nipples. His mouth travels down and closes over one of them, his lips sucking at the nipple and pulling it into a taut erection. His hand runs down her body to her panties, stroking her over the material for a while, but then disappearing down under the panties, his fingers exploring the area of wiry hair and soft wetness.

She shudders at his touch, her body arching. Quickly she pulls off her pants, and feverishly unzips him. While his fingers explore her dark pubic hair, the index finger disappearing into her body and coming out slick and shiny, she is playing with his penis, delighting in the sight and feel of it.

Quickly she urges him onto her, guiding his penis as it slides into her eager vagina.

The situation of a wife having a lover who possesses his own front door key is not at all unusual. A recent case came to light in the Midlands, where it was revealed in the divorce court that the amorous housewife in question would wait until hubby went to work, and would then place a vase of flowers in an upstairs window as a signal to her lover that the coast was clear. Lover would then let himself in with his own key, and would go upstairs to find the wife in the nude, lying on the bed, caressing her own body.

This system went wrong one day when hubby's car broke down, and he had to return home. He entered the house, and noticed that things seemed to be very quiet. Then he heard a sound from upstairs, and wondered whether his wife was feeling ill. Moving quietly, so as not to disturb her, he crept upstairs, and opened the door of the bedroom.

'She was lying on her back on the bed, completely naked. Lying above her was a naked man — someone I'd never seen before. Her thighs were spread, and he had his head between them — and I could see from the movements of his head what he was doing. Her mouth was wide open, and his penis was in it. Her hands were holding him round the buttocks, her fingers right inside the crack. He was moving his hips up and down, and with every movement his penis would plunge right down inside her mouth, and then come out again, the shaft all wet and gleaming.

'She was gasping with pleasure as this happened, moving her hips and writhing on the bed. With every plunge of his enormous penis into her mouth she gave a muffled cry of pleasure.'

But wives have had lovers since time began — there is nothing particularly unusual in that. But the women we are concentrating on in this particular article are the ones who are fair game for any male callers, who are willing to put out for anything which happens to be wearing trousers and which comes calling.

Like the Malden housewife who had a novel way of welcoming the man from the Gas Board.

'Well, we'd had a call from her saying would we send a bloke round as she thought her gas meter was going wrong. So round I went, and when I saw her opening the door in her dressing gown, I thought something was up. Anyway I played it straight, and asked where the meter was, and she showed me in and opened this little cupboard where the meter was situated. I bent down to take a look at it, and at that moment she slipped her hand right through my legs, and started groping me.

'Quickly I stood up and turned round, and she dropped the dressing gown, standing there in front of me without a stitch on. She was pretty good looking too, with a nice figure, and round, firm tits. "Look here, love," I said, "I'm a happily-married man. I don't want no trouble." But then she pressed me right up against the wall, and sort of pushed her hips against me. Her face was right up against mine, and I could smell her sort of perfumey smell. So I thought, "Sod it," and I put down my hands and grabbed her bum. It was all soft and smooth, and really felt nice. She kissed me, and stuck her tongue right into my mouth, and with my hands on her bum I could feel her thrusting herself against me.

'So in the end we had it away. She was absolutely shameless, the things she wanted to do. I wouldn't tell you some of the things she wanted to get up to. What I can tell you is that she wanted me to hurt her, and she made me grab hold of her hair, and force her head down to suck my prick. All the time she was doing that she wanted me to have hold of her hair, and sort of pull her head about. I've never known anything like it.'

What can cause this kind of extreme reaction in an ordinary housewife?

Psychologists tell us that there are a number of reasons. The primary one is, of course, boredom. If a man goes out to work all day, comes home to have his meal, and then either goes out with his mates, or else buries himself in his paper or goes to sleep all the evening, he should not be surprised if his wife suddenly gets an urge to bring a bit of excitement into her life. This sort of thing is most likely to happen if the husband has to work unsocial hours.

Jill, a twenty-four year old nightworker's wife living in Yorkshire, exemplifies this. Here is her story in her own words.

'Harry works nights. He brings in more money doing this shift, but I don't think it's worth the trouble it has caused. You see, during the day he is asleep, and I have to creep round the house on tiptoe, afraid of waking him up. I can't have the telly on because he sleeps so light. Some days I feel I will just go mad. Then at night, off he goes to work, and I am left sitting on my own just at the time you need a bit of company.

'I can tell you how it all started off. There's this young girl, about eighteen, living a few doors down the road, and she used to come in for coffee during the day, while Harry was asleep. I think there's something funny with her hubby, because she's always going on about how frustrated she is. One day I really felt like it, you know, and Joyce came over for coffee. The conversation got round to sex, and we were both saying how frustrated we felt. Well, Joyce said, "I bet I'm in a worse state than you. Even talking about it get me going. You feel." And with that — honestly — she grabbed my hand and stuck it up her skirt! She was all wet up there. I'm ashamed to say I didn't take my hand away, and when she put her hand up to feel me, I started stroking the front of her knickers, while she shut her eyes with a look of pleasure on her face. It felt so good to have someone else touching me, even if it was another girl. In the end we both took our panties off, and we sat side by side masturbating each other. I hadn't done anything like that since I was at school. I had a very powerful orgasm, and so did she. We were both ashamed afterwards, and she hasn't come round since.

'But that really got me worried, you know, and I thought that I was going to end up completely kinky.

'In the end I started going out in the evenings when Harry went to work, and one evening I let myself be picked up by a man. He took me to his place, and we did it in his bed. He wasn't as good as Harry, and the whole thing wasn't nearly as enjoyable. But it was sex, and it satisfied me for the time being. Now it's become a regular thing. When it starts getting bad, I go out and pick up any man. I've even done it standing up in the little alley behind the pub.

Another reason a wife might stray is connected with the last. Often, stuck at home, with the husband earning the money, a wife can gradually come to feel useless. Especially if her husband encourages these feelings by his behaviour towards her. She can end up by feeling a liability in the home rather than an equal partner with her husband. This is what happened to Ethel, an attractive, willowy blonde, who is now divorced.

'There was this man next door, a widower, and he used to come in sometimes. He had his own business, so he wasn't tied to a working day. This was Fred. He was very kind, and I always used to feel better after he had been talking to me. He tried to make me think more of myself.

'One day I had just finished my bath, and I was wearing a dressing gown over nothing, when Fred called. I invited him into the kitchen. For some reason I was terribly conscious of not having anything on underneath the gown, and really felt in a strange mood. Fred had never led me on, or given me any reason to feel he was at all interested in me in that way. But I started to feel so sexy I was literally shaking. When I gave him his coffee I upset a little bit on the front of his trousers. Flustered, I picked up a cloth, and wiped him there, suddenly realising I could feel the shape of it with my fingers. Quickly I dropped the cloth. I turned away from him, fiddling with the cord of my dressing gown. Suddenly I noticed it had come undone, but I didn't try to do it up again.

'He stood up, and took me in his arms. He held me tight, and all of a sudden I felt a sensation building up inside me, and I found myself thrusting my hips violently against him, and crying out as I experienced an orgasm! He hadn't even done anything to me. Well, what happened was that we went in the dining room, and he laid me down on the carpet. He undressed, his penis sticking up, and then pressed his body against me, his hands running over me lovingly. As his hand closed over my breast and his mouth ground against mine, I experienced another orgasm. Altogether I had four as he made love to me, each one more powerful than the last.

'My final one synchronised with his, as he thrust into my body, and I just went mad, thrusting, writhing, screaming out loud as I felt him pumping into the very depths of my vagina. I think for the first time in my life I felt like a real woman. He told me how beautiful I was, and really — adored — me, you know? Looking at his penis, now all limp and small, and covered in his semen and my secretions, I felt I wanted to express what I felt, and so I kissed his chest, and then gradually moved my mouth down his body, finally taking his penis into my mouth, sucking it clean. I'd never done this before with anybody, but I felt him becoming erect, and felt thrilled as I sucked and licked at him, finally allowing him to ejaculate in my mouth, and experiencing another orgasm as he did so. It was sex and love and a million other things all mixed up in the one act.'

Subsequently Ethel was divorced from her husband, and is now happily married to Fred. There has been no recurrence of her black moods, and no desire to give herself to another man.

Another reason for the straying wife is sexual inadequacy in her partner. This frustration can lead to the most extreme examples of the married woman who puts it about. Doubtless the door-to-door salesman, the milkman and the insurance men who have experienced her charms, mark her down in their mental files as a nymphomaniac. But her trouble is a deep-seated frustration.

Hazel, a pretty nineteen-year-old is a woman of this type. The wives who marry young are also most prone to stray, because they are at an age when they feel a need to experiment sexually. But this does not apply to Hazel. Her desires are caused by her husband's poor performance in bed.

'You see, I want to do it nearly every night — but I think once in three weeks would suit him. And what makes it worse is that when we do have it, I am really aching for it, and usually I end up feeling worse than I did before. You see, he gets me all sexy, and then puts it in. But he comes almost straight away. It seems that just the feel of his prick inside me is enough to bring him off. He's all right then — he just turns over and goes to sleep, but I am left almost crying with frustration. When he is asleep I masturbate, but this doesn't really serve to alleviate the frustration. I feel empty inside. One night I even got up and put a candle up my vagina, but it didn't help much. What I really wanted was his prick.'

Eventually her desire had to find an outlet, and Hazel went out one lunchtime to a pub some distance from her house.

'There was a group of 'Hell's Angels' there, with all their bikes parked outside the pub. It sounds terrible, but I just waited there till closing time, and then just sat on the pillion of one of the bikes. They all came trooping out of the pub with their leathers and studs and so on, and they just glanced at me as they got on their bikes. The one whose bike I was on didn't say or do anything when he saw me — just looked at me and then got on. The powerful engine started, and we moved off with a terrific roar, flashing off down the road in a pack. The experience was terrifically exciting, and I was very conscious of my vagina pressing against the vibrating saddle.

'Eventually we all drew up in this deserted copse, and all the bikes were round me in a circle. I put up my arms, indicating for them to lift me off, and one of them did so, and laid me down on the ground. I was completely passive. I felt their hands all over my body, and felt so aroused I could hardly breathe. There were about eight of them in all, and they were all feeling me, their hands all over. They started stripping me, and I was conscious of their eyes as they drew down my panties, boring into my body. One of them pulled down his leather tights, and I saw his prick sticking up. He came between my thighs, and plunged into me. It felt lovely. I felt myself being filled with his prick, and my hands dug into the ground as the sensation filled me.

'His buttocks plunged, and his prick sawed back and forth, over and over again. I came while he was fucking me, and he came soon after. Then another one took his place. It went on and on. One after the other they had me, and I was coming over and over again. And I wanted more and more. One of them kneeled beside me while another one fucked me, and he jacked himself off, his semen sprinkling all over my body. And I loved the feel of it. I wanted to be drowned in semen, I wanted my body invaded over and over again. I wanted to be covered by men, to have their pricks probing all over me. I think I would happily have had every orifice of my body plugged by a penis. 'It took all afternoon, and I'm sure I must have been fucked about twenty times. When I stood up, semen ran out of my vagina and trickled down my leg, and my body was covered with it, the smell of it on me very sharp. I got dressed, and they ran me back to the pub, although I could hardly walk. I'd had so many orgasms that my vagina was still twitching and giving me little orgasmic thrills all the way home, despite the soreness of it.

'My husband never knew what happened. He wouldn't have believed it, anyway.'

This is the most pathetic kind of straying wife. She goes out looking for what she can find at home. But we married men should not feel too smug. It is a particular kind of woman whose dissatisfaction with married life is expressed in this kind of way. But any woman can become like this. If she feels neglected, frustrated, in the way, or even if her curiosity gets the better of her — she can become a straying wife.

So try and keep her happy — it can be dangerous if you don't!