Laura's Story - How I Became a Hot Wife
Chapter 1: Stacy's Dad and Mr. Gomez

Copyright© 2007 by Flash of Stocking

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Stacy's Dad and Mr. Gomez - I guess I'm a hotwife, since I have sex with men other than my husband, and my husband knows about it and likes it. My husband and I like to read HW stories, but they never really talk about why the wife decided to be a hotwife. So I decided to tell my story. I've been emailing Flash of Stocking my story, and he wrote this. (Thanks Flash!) Before you ask, everything you read here really happened to me.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Reluctant Cheating Slut Wife Cuckold Humiliation Pregnancy Exhibitionism Voyeurism Size Leg Fetish

I guess I'm a hotwife, since I have sex with men other than my husband, and my husband knows about it and likes it. My husband (his name is Jake) and I like to read HW stories, but they never really talk about why the wife decided to be a hotwife. So I decided to tell my story. I'm not a writer, and neither is Jake. We like xleglover's stories, so we asked him if he would write my story. He said yes, so I've been emailing Flash of Stocking my story, and he wrote this. (Thanks Flash!) Before you ask, everything you read here really happened to me.

So, I guess I should start by describing me. My name's Laura. I'm 27, and Jake and I've been married 3 years. Jake's 31. I'm blonde, and people tell me I'm pretty. I'm 5'2" and petite. I have smallish breasts -- 32A or B, depending on the bra type. Small but I'm proud that they're firm and nicely shaped. Jake calls them perky and says I have eraser nipples because that's what they look like. I've thought about getting a boob job, but I've read that sometimes you lose sensitivity, and I don't want to take that chance (my nipples are so sensitive I can almost orgasm from just being played with).

My legs are my best feature. I guess I qualify as a leggy blonde. Since I haven't had kids yet, my tummy and ass look the same as when I was a teenager, maybe even better because I exercise more now than then. I have a college degree (I majored in advertising and marketing). Right now I work in an advertising firm. Jake and I live in New York City, in an apartment we bought 2 years ago. We love to go clubbing, and NYC is great for that. More on that later.

I guess everything started when I was 15. Actually, I

know exactly when and where. My family lived in up state New York. My girl friends and I were coming home from a movie. Stacy's dad was driving us home. I was sitting in the front next to Stacy's dad, and Stacy and my other 2 girl friends were in the back. It was late and the drive was long, so we were all starting to fall asleep. Suddenly I felt Stacy's dad's hand on my leg. I was wearing a mini-skirt and tights. He started at my knee and started moving up my thigh. I looked over at him and he leered at me.

Stacy's dad had greasy hair and was fat. He was repulsive. I was pretty disgusted with his hand on me. But I couldn't say anything because I didn't want to wake up my girl friends. I certainly didn't want Stacy to know her dad was a pervert. So I stayed silent. He was caressing my thigh. Then he started moving underneath my skirt. I tried to stop him but he was stronger than me and pushed my hand away. I couldn't fight because I didn't want to wake up Stacy. His hand moved under my skirt, and then he pushed between my legs. I tried to hold them together but, again, there wasn't much I could do without waking up my friends. So I decided to just endure it, because I knew we'd be home soon.

He started rubbing my pussy through my tights and panties. I felt helpless to stop what he was doing. It was humiliating. I felt even more humiliated when I started feeling pleasure from what he was doing to me. I couldn't believe Stacy's disgusting pervert dad was getting to me.

He rubbed hard against my clit, and I bit my lip to stop from moaning. I looked over at him and he had a big evil smile on his face. He knew I couldn't fight him, and he knew he was getting to me. He kept rubbing my clit, and soon I was on the brink of an orgasm. My hands flew down to my skirt and covered his hand. At this point I wasn't trying to push him away, I was trying to keep him from stopping, and make him rub harder.

Then my orgasm hit me. I couldn't help moaning, but it was through clenched teeth and the radio was on, so my girlfriends didn't wake up. By this time in my life I was masturbating, so I knew what an orgasm was. This was the more intense and incredible orgasm I had ever had. It lasted forever. My whole body shook, and I felt like pleasure flowed from my toes to the tips of my fingers.

I never again let Stacy's dad get close to me (although he leered at me whenever I saw him). But this episode is still one of the most important sexual experiences of my life.

I wasn't allowed to date until 16. But I made up for lost time. I was pretty, popular and a cheerleader, so I was asked out a lot. Kissing and petting started early. So did oral sex. Maybe it sounds like I was a slut, but I wasn't. All the popular girls did it. It was part of staying popular. But my girlfriends and I were never so promiscuous to develop bad reputations. We were just young, pretty and popular.

I lost by virginity when I was 17. I was a junior, and

he was a senior, the starting quarterback for my high school team (yes, I know it's trite to lose your virginity to the football quarterback, but he was my boyfriend at the time). How was it? It was ... just okay. In fact, that's what I'm getting at. All my sexual experiences to that point were just okay. Exciting, yes. It felt okay. But I never once came close to an orgasm. Not even once. And all the guys I was going out with were really hunks. I'm not bragging, I'm just saying that I was going out with really gorgeous guys.

But none of them turned me on like Stacy's dad that time in the car. And Stacy's dad, like I said before, wasn't at all attractive.

In high school I almost always wore short skirts. My friends were all developing breasts. It took me longer to develop. My legs were always long and shapely, so to compete with my girlfriends I always wore short skirts. This was easy because I was a cheerleader, and even when I wasn't wearing my cheerleading outfit I wore a short skirt. In the warmer months my legs were bare, but when it was colder I wore tights or pantyhose (and in up-state New York it was cold for most of the year).

In my school you had to get at least a C+ average in all your classes, or you couldn't play sports. My worst class was math. During my senior year I failed the mid-term math exam, and I was about to be suspended from the cheerleading squad. I felt like my life was ruined. To make matters worst I had just been voted head cheerleader, and I would lose that, even if later I was allowed to be back on the cheer squad. I begged the math teacher to let me re-take the exam. He agreed, but he said I first had to take extra lessons, or else I would just fail it again. Even though this cut into my after school time, I agreed because it was my only chance to remain head cheerleader.

Some teachers are hot. But not Mr. Gomez, my math teacher. He was so overweight that his shirts never seemed to fit; the buttons always seemed to be on the verge of popping off. He grew his hair long and slicked it back to cover his bald spot. His face was pockmarked.

By this time in my life I knew how to tease guys. I decided if I had to be trapped in these extra study sessions, I'd tease and torture Mr. Gomez. I knew it'd be easy because there were many times that I caught Mr. Gomez trying to sneak a peak between my legs, when I was sitting at my desk.

On the day of the first study session, I wore a short pleated skirt, pantyhose, flats and a tight white sweater. Mr. Gomez sat at his desk and quizzed me. I stood and had to work out the answer at the blackboard. Whenever I wrote at the top of the blackboard, I'd purposely stretch so my sweater inched up, exposing my flat tummy. When I wrote at the bottom of the blackboard, I'd lean over to expose more of my legs.

I could feel Mr. Gomez's eyes on me. When he looked at me, he didn't look at my face. He looked at my mouth. Like he was fantasizing about my lips around his penis. I was starting to get hot. I remember glancing down. My nipples were so hard that they were outlined in my sweater, even though I was wearing a bra.

Eventually Mr. Gomez got up from his desk and stood next to me. He pointed at something I had done wrong, and when he pulled his hand back he brushed against my breasts. This sent a bolt of electricity through me, and I'm sure my face flushed. I took a step away from Mr. Gomez to put some space between us, and for a while he kept his distance. But after a few minutes he stepped closer to me, until we were almost touching.

He put his arm around my waist, so his hand rested on my hip. "Laura, you know you can't be a cheerleader unless you pass this test."

My heart was pounding. "Uh — I know. I really want to pass."

Mr. Gomez started to caress my back. "Laura, I'm not sure that's possible. You don't seem to be getting this."

I was frozen. I knew I should run out of the room, but I couldn't bring myself to. I had to pass the test to be a cheerleader. Also, I was so aroused. I hadn't been so turned on since that night with Stacy's dad.

"Isn't there anything I can do?" I looked over at Mr. Gomez. His eyes were on my chest, looking at my hard nipples. His hand ran up my back, making me shiver. His fingers traced along my bra strap.

"There might be something," he said. His hand ran down my back, and then traced the curve of my behind, over my skirt. "Maybe there is something you can do, if you can keep a secret." His hand began edging under my skirt.

"Please Mr. Gomez, no," I said. Tears started flowing down my cheeks. Of course I knew what he was doing was wrong. I could have run away, but I didn't. And it wasn't because I wanted to pass the test so I could be a cheerleader. I didn't run away because I was so turned on.

His hand was under my skirt, and he was caressing my ass. With his other hand he cupped by breasts, and rubbed my nipples between his fingers. Even through my sweater and bra, his touch felt so good that I felt like I was about to faint. "No, Mr. Gomez, no, please, stop," I whined. But the last thing I wanted was for him to stop.

I think he sensed this. He leered at me, and then he kissed me. His breath was foul, smelling like coffee and cigarettes, and whatever he had had for lunch. He stuck his tongue down my throat, and swirled it around my mouth.

He finally took his mouth off mine. I was gasping for breath. "Do you want to pass the test?" he hissed into my ear. "Do you want to be a cheerleader?"

I was so excited I could barely speak. "Yes," I managed to say.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked.


He reached down and pulled my skirt up. He lifted me on his desk, and in one motion he pulled off my panties and pantyhose, my flats falling onto the floor in the process. I heard him open his zipper. He got between my legs, and then I felt his penis against my pussy. He rubbed his penis against my pussy lips. It felt so good, I couldn't help moaning.

"Are you a virgin?" he said, leering at me.

"No," I gasped, truthfully.

He smiled contemptuously at me. "I always knew you were a slut," and he pushed his cock into me.

I won't go into any more details, except to say that I came that night. It was the first time I had cum from intercourse, and the first orgasm I had had since Stacy's dad (other than when I masturbated). And it was a great orgasm, at least as good as the one with Stacy's dad.

That was the only study session I had to do, and I didn't have to take the test again. Mr. Gomez changed my grade to a B, and I was able to remain the cheerleader captain.

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