My Wife Is A Bitch But…

My Wife Is A Bitch But…

My adorable wife of fifteen years Nisha has the cutest way of telling me that she cheated. She waits until we’re fucking, then tells me she has been bad – again. She knows very well that I want a wife who is a slut in the bedroom, but a lady and faithful wife everyplace else. The bedroom, while fucking, is the one place and time she can confess to an act of marital infidelity, have that accepted and receive forgiveness. From day one in our marriage, once something has been confessed and forgiven, the person who granted forgiveness could never bring it up again. That was my bright idea for preventing the never-ending arguments that plagued my parent’s marriage. Nisha used my bright idea to cheat and get away with it. Works like a charm, too.

Nisha is a very bright and crafty woman. It didn’t take her long to take a bright idea and make me choke on it. Her first act of adultery was three days into the honeymoon in Mauritius. After telling me what she did, and she did two lifeguards in the lifeguard shack, she wouldn’t let me cum until I forgave her. She was on top and in full control, fucking me with the sloppiest cunt that drenched my nuts in lifeguard cum, so I knew this was no fantasy. We needed to talk about this before any forgiveness entered the picture. No forgiveness, no cum. No woman can make me want to cum like Nisha can. That slut can flat milk a dick with her cunt and hold a man right at the edge until it hurts.

I forgave her, but that wasn’t enough. I had to apologize, yes, me, the faithful one had to apologize to her, the unfaithful one for her double act of infidelity on our fucking honeymoon. Her logic: I didn’t keep her totally sexually satisfied which drove her to flirt with lifeguards, which got her fucked – twice – in the pussy – no condom – no pulling out. Because of me, her fertile and unprotected pussy got cummed in. I owed her an apology. Because of me, she might be pregnant.

Now picture this. I’m getting fucked by a cheating pussy while wearing a condom, getting my faithful, newlywed nuts soaked in lifeguard cum. This unfaithful slut is telling me that because of me, she might be pregnant with another man’s child. I couldn’t bring that up because I forgave her. I tried, but she reminded me, both acts forgiven, now ancient history, never happened. Now there was just this matter of an apology. Well, I apologized, came in my rubber, and made her happy.

I was not at all happy. I didn’t think that was one bit cute. I sat around sulking and pouting, pissed at the world, so mad at her I could not bear to look at her, needing to talk about this but couldn’t. I was also pissed at myself for being so weak, but mostly for apologizing, like I have to keep her slut ass totally sexually satisfied or suffer the consequences. No man could keep that slut satisfied, and she gave no indication she was like that prior to the wedding. We dated for two years and were sexually active for most of that time. I had no reason to think I was marrying an insatiable slut. I just could not believe Nisha could do that to me.

She let me stew and sulk for the better part of an hour while she went about in the nude with their cum running down her legs, parading that filth in my face, rubbing it in when she should have been washing it out right after she got it, unless she wanted to be pregnant with another man’s child. To add insult to injury, she came over and plopped that cheating whore ass right on my lap and got that fucking shit all over my legs. She gets nose to livid nose with me and says, “Don’t worry. Suntan lotion is good for your sexy white legs.”

Suntan lotion? Suntan lotion! That was suntan lotion soaking my nuts and not getting my wife pregnant. She smiled big as my awareness dawned, then said, “I got you good, didn’t I? You really thought I cheated, didn’t you?”

Do you see why I married that adorable bundle of cuteness. God was I every happy and never so madly in love. Yes, she got me good, and she was a great slut in the bedroom, the best, totally convincing. I could have sworn I was fucking a cheating slut. I swear, there is nothing like fucking a cheating slut with a cunt full of another man’s cum in her cheating cunt, especially while wearing a rubber. You gotta wear the rubber and you must be married to the slut or it just isn’t the same. She got me good, and I did marry the right gal.

The next day, she returns from the beach and wakes me from a nap to see if I want sex. She had just slipped out of her bikini. I notice right away that she got herself ready again. I quickly rise to the occasion. Hell, yes, I want to fuck a cheating slut. She smiles and gets my rubber. While she is sheathing my faithful cock, I scoop a handful of adultery lotion from her cheating cunt and start rubbing it on my arm and chest. She is all smiles. I want more, so she cocks her leg and gives me more. This shit is all up in her pussy, so I dig around and get a big wad. While she is getting mounted on me, I rubbed that lotion into my face… and… and the shit smells exactly like cum… tastes exactly like it, too.

I was smearing somebody’s fuck wad all over me, all fat dumb and happy until I realized that I was smearing somebody’s fuck wad all over my fucking face and got some in my fucking mouth. I looked to the person I got it from, and said, “Nisha, this is cum!”

“I know. What did you think it was, suntan lotion?”

She confessed. It was lifeguard cum, but only one. I forgave her and I apologized. This time, I didn’t pout and sulk, nor did she parade that shit around. We showered together. She wanted to know if I really did forgive her, not just in words but from the heart. She could bring this up, but I couldn’t, but since she did, I said, “Before I answer that, are you going to let him fuck you again, and cum in your fertile, unprotected, married pussy again?”

She said, “Before I answer that, you tell me if your forgiving is for real, or is it just something you say so you can cum in your rubber?”

I did like the way she put that, and the implication was that she would do it again if the forgiveness was real, otherwise she would have said, “Oh course not.” I thought about the implication before saying, “My forgiveness is real, Nisha. Those aren’t just words to give a rubber as much sperm on the inside as it has on the outside. Now, do you plan to see him again?”

“Yes, I made a date to see him after he gets off duty, but it’s just a fuck date. We’re not going out or anything. We’re just going to fuck for a while. Could you like go see a movie or something – say around six – give us until nine?”

“Fuck no, I won’t go see a movie so you can screw some guy. Are you crazy? There’s no advance forgiving, Nisha, and there is no guarantee I’ll forgive you if you do it again.”

“You’ll forgive me.”

“Don’t be so sure. You are talking about premeditated adultery. That is adultery in the first degree, Nisha. We are not talking about two ships passing in the night, bumping into each other, getting horny, passions flaring until the dirty deed gets done.”

“Ships don’t fuck, and I don’t bump into guys and then decide I must fuck him. I see something I like and go bump it. All of my adultery will be adultery in the first degree. What I did just a while ago was planned and premeditated. Are you saying you won’t forgive first-degree adultery?”

“No, it’s not that. I can forgive any kind of adultery that you want forgiveness for, but making me a part of the plan and asking me to get lost so that you can do something that I can later forgive is… well it’s…”

“Open and honest. Think about this, Ritwik. If you cooperate and give me the full three hours I need to be thoroughly unfaithful, you won’t need to apologize, and I know you find that galling.”

“I do.”

“I’m sure you do. You are having to apologize for your sexual inadequacy which drives me to cheat and risk pregnancy.”

That hurt so good, but I had to say, “Then why risk getting pregnant. We have plenty of rubbers.”

“Don’t be silly. Those are your rubbers. I doubt your rubbers would even fit a cock like he has; besides, my getting pregnant is not his concern. I wouldn’t expect a man I am cheating with to care one wit whether I get knocked up. I’d feel silly asking him to pull out to cum. Suppose he asked why? What would I tell him, that I like getting messy, that I don’t like to cum with a guy, that I hate that feeling of a virile cock going off deep in my cunt and flooding my womb, or that I hate bringing my hubby a freshly-fucked pussy to bathe in. Ritwik, get real.”

Made sense to me, so after the movie, I had to kill thirty minutes before I could go up and fuck my wife without an apology. I gave her an extra ten just to be on the safe side and still met the fucker coming out of my room. The grinning shithead says, “She’s all yours, Pal. Enjoy your bath.”

Fucking asshole, and I wasn’t thinking of the stud lifeguard. Nisha had some nerve telling him I bathe in fuck, and there she was looking like a fucked slut holding a rubber, saying, “I have been unfaithful, and you are late. Here, put this on and forgive me.”

She tossed; I caught; I tossed it back and said, “Fuck yourself and forgive yourself. I don’t need this shit. Find some other fool to raise your bastards.”

With that and dramatic flair, I turned abruptly, caught my feet in bedding, tripped, stumbled, farted, fell, and banged my head on something really hard. I saw birdies and one turned into Nisha – nurse Nisha. She helped me to the bed and sat me right in a huge puddle of fuck. I don’t think she meant to. She did apologize for that while rubbing ice on my lump. She also said she was sorry for reading me wrong and thinking I got off on being treated like a wimp, pussy-whipped hubby with an inadequate dick. She said she was no longer sure what I wanted, but whatever it was, she wanted to be that for me.

That was nice. If I could just tell her exactly what I wanted, that would be very nice. I knew that I didn’t want to sit in somebody else’ fuck that was on my side of the bed.

We had a rough start, but we eventually settled into a loving relationship based on forgiveness and endless apologies for my sexual inadequacies, which drove a devoted wife and mother into the arms of other men for sexual satisfaction, resulting in her staying barefoot and pregnant for most of the first ten years. We had eight bastards and we were damn lucky she didn’t have any twins or triplets before she had enough of that shit and got her tubes tied. I didn’t think that woman would ever tire of getting pregnant, or of handing me another bastard to raise.

The little bastards called her, Mom, but they called me, Ritwik. Nisha was a very open and honest woman. The kids knew why she had to cheat, and they knew the rubbers were my rubbers. They were not toys, not water balloons, they were to keep Ritwik’s sperm from getting into Mommy’s pussy and making a legitimate child in there. God forbid we contaminate the bastard factory with legitimate sperm.

Though they were all bastards and knew it, they had a mother and a father. The mother went out on dates wearing ultra-short skirts without any panties and their father wore an apron over panties with shaved legs, open-toes high heels, and red painted toenails. When he took off his apron, he looked very sexy, especially if he got a hardon, and he usually did when he wore only heels and panties, or knelt to suck a date, or a wife after a date. Other than that, we were a regular family, very close, and though the kids called me by my first name, I was the legal father and they bore my last name.

I have to credit Nisha with making a family out of that mess. I make her sound like a whore, but most of the time, she was just a very busy mom. She did most of her messing around when she had a fertile pussy, but lost interest in sex during pregnancy. Her interest went way down after getting her tubes tied. The big thrill for her was cheating with a risk of getting pregnant. Take away the risk and the thrill was gone, but she would still humour me by confessing fantasy acts of infidelity. She used egg whites for simulated cum. Every now and then, the cum was real. She kept me on my toes, but the heels did that, too.

Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but what marriage is. At least we could forgive and forget. We never fought over the same shit over and over again. Hell, we never fought except over panties. That’s saying something.

 

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