My wife and I like to hit the casinos in Lake Charles. There are two pretty much right next to each other: the Golden Nugget, with its attached mall, shops, bars, and restaurants, and a flashy Vegas vibe; and the L'Auberge, a couple hundred yards away, quieter, with something like a European vibe. We always stay at the Nugget because of the attached mall. The last time was about a year after I found out about her cheating, as previously posted.

After a break of about 10 years she'd met a woman at a hair salon who, it turned out, was divorced. They started hanging out together, along with another wife. DeeDee, the divorced member of their new trio, got both wives to cheat. It was the first time for the other wife, but for my wife the cheating fire was reignited and burning white hot.

After being caught, she admitted to me that she was getting older and had felt for awhile that she was missing out.

“Please understand,” she told me. “I love you with all my heart, but you're just not enough. I need other men in my life, and I'm getting too old not to have that. I hope you can accept that because I want us to keep growing old together. I've been a good wife and a good mother, and I think I deserve it. I think you owe me that freedom.”

I'd come to terms with it. I encouraged her to continue hanging out with DeeDee but told her I'd like to at least hear about what she was up to. She told me who she fucked was really none of my business unless she wanted it to be, and I needed to accept that reality.

“I don't want to be your hotwife,” she said, "and that comes with too many expectations. I never wanted you to know about me fucking other men. I wanted you to see me as your chaste, loving, faithful wife. It's only with other men, men I can choose to never see again, that I feel safe enough to be a slut. That was a secret I planned to take to the grave, but I got careless with my friends.”

Since I wasn't about to throw away 35 years of marriage and she knew it, she knew she had the upper hand and, sexually at least, could pretty much do whatever she wanted and decide the terms on which she did.

“What I do with other men has nothing to do with us,” she told me. “It doesn't diminish my love for you. I'll still be the same good wife I've always been. I hope you understand that because I don't want to lose you, but I can't give up enjoying what you can't do for me and other men can.”

I told her I understood. If it were up to me, we would be together until death do us part.

We're not high-stakes gamblers. So all we do at both casinos is play the slots and drink. I convinced my wife to dress a little hotter than she usually does for an afternoon of “slotting” and to wear the QOS anklet I bought her to see if it would be noticed and generate any attention. She had worn it before during normal day-to-day activities, and no one had ever noticed, or if they had, didn't say anything. She'd also been out and about on occasion with a temp QOS tat, and even with it being more obvious, it too really failed to generate much attention, though we did occasionally catch someone we thought was looking.

The casino was well lit, and since most of our time would be spent sitting on stools in front of slot machines and her legs would be elevated, an anklet might be a little easier to spot. I was careful to make sure that whenever possible, she always took a place in front of the last machine in a row so the leg with the anklet would be visible to anyone passing by. We'd been at it a couple hours without anyone appearing to notice and had a pretty good buzz on from the watered-down free drinks, big tipping the waitress to keep them coming, and I excused myself to go back to our room to use the bathroom.

From what my wife told me later, I probably hadn't even made it to the elevators before a young black man approached her, introduced himself, and told her he loved her anklet and wished he saw more women like her wearing them. My wife was eventually to learn that this wasn't just a spontaneous introduction. He had given very large tips to a couple of waitresses and asked them to be on the lookout for any potentially interesting prospects, and our waitress had told him about my wife's anklet.

He approached my wife and asked, “Hello, would you mind if I joined you? It would be my pleasure to buy you a drink.”

She laughed and said, “The drinks are free.”

“Oh, I know,” he replied, “and watered down. I don't mean casino drinks; I'd love to buy you a proper drink at the Blue Martini, a bar in the mall down the way.”

“I know it,” she told him. My husband and I were there last night and got wasted on some great but expensive bellinis.”

“It seems you've recovered well,” he said jokingly.

“Thank you for your gracious offer, but I'm waiting on my husband to get back from our room.”

“Surely he won't mind you slipping away briefly for a proper drink. I'll tip the waitress to send him down to the Blue Martini when he gets back, and I'll be able to buy you both a drink.”

He was a charming guy. My wife was in the mood for another great Bellini and figured I'd get a kick out of finding her in the bar with him, so she agreed.

She waited while he found the waitress, and he tipped her, not to send me to the bar but to tell me my wife had gone back to our room. My wife watched him tip her, and the waitress turned towards her, smiled, and waved as if to say the message understood.

My wife returned the wave, mouthing, “Thank you.”

At the bar, my wife was about to finish her second Bellini and was getting a little miffed that I hadn't shown up. Meanwhile, I was looking all over the casino for her, and when the waitress spotted me, she told me I had gone back to our room.

So, back to our room I went. My wife never told me this guy's name, so I'll just call him Jason. When I didn't show after a couple drinks, Jason walked my wife back to the casino, holding hands with her. They found the waitress and asked if her husband had come looking for her. She told them I had, and she thought I probably went back to our room.

My wife, thinking I'd be told where she was and having decided not to follow, was now both ***** and pissed at me.

Jason said, “Since it sounds like your husband isn't interested in joining us, why not have a quiet drink with me over at the L'Auberge?”

“Yes, why not?” she replied.

At the L'Auberge, Jason walked her to the elevator, and she said, “I didn't know they had a bar upstairs.”

“They don't; I thought we'd just have a quiet drink in my room.”

Between the drinks in the casino and the drinks at the Blue Martini, my wife was ***** enough that she took him at face value and went upstairs with him, thinking it was just for another drink.

In the elevator, Jason pulled her toward him and kissed her, and she let him. They left the elevator, holding hands, and went to his room. She was surprised to see another man in the room, and she looked questioningly at Jason.

“He's a friend,” he said.Do you mind if he stays and has a drink with us?”

“I don't mind,” she said, “the more, the merrier. What are we drinking?”

I got back to the room, and my wife wasn't there, so I waited. No messages on the room phone. She hadn't taken her purse, so she didn't have her phone, and she doesn't usually have it turned on anyway. Now I was getting worried, so I made a pass through the casino and started looking for her in the mall. It never even occurred to me that she'd left the Golden Nugget, let alone that she might be at the L'Auberge.

“Let's have some fun first,” said Jason, pulling my wife down onto the bed and kissing her.

Mad at me and quite *****, she decided to see where it all went. She could always stop if it was too much, she told herself. Making out with Jason would just be a little harmless fun. It was, after all, just kissing.

Her gold romper looked hot and, from some angles, could be mistaken for a mini dress, but it didn't allow the same easy access.

“Can we get this off you?” Jason asked after the two of them had made out passionately for some time.

He's managed to get a hand between her thick married thighs and has been fingering her cunt to the point where she is now soaking wet.

She felt like she was on autopilot. She stood up, undid her belt, peeled the long sleeves off her arms, and let her romper slip to the floor, stepping out of it but keeping her heels on. Jason had removed his pants and laid back on the bed, his long black cock standing at attention. She noticed his friend, sitting now, watching, but she ignored him, got back on the bed, straddled Jason, and sank down on his cock.

“Oh yeah, baby,” exclaimed Jason, “that feels great.”

Riding his cock, she reached back, unsnapped her bra, freeing her big tits, and tossed it off the bed.

“Fucking awesome tits,” said Jason, and she bent down, offering them to him.

He took them in his hands, lifted his head, and began sucking them, one after the other. She didn't notice his friend getting up from the chair or getting undressed. She felt something on the bed, but what it was didn't register until she felt his cock poking at her ass. She tensed at his touch.

Jason told her, "Relax, baby, let it happen.”

In what seemed like an instant, the friend was in her balls deep. It hurt, and she cried out. The friend stopped and let her adjust, and before long she was feeling filled with the joyful friction of two big cocks working their magic inside her. She loves being fucked in the ass, but the sensation of two men inside her, penetrating her together, was truly exquisite. The fact that her clueless husband had no idea where she was, much less that she was in a hotel room being fucked senseless by two black strangers, sent her into orgasmic bliss.

She came once, twice, and three times, and then she felt Jason unloading into her cunt, followed soon after by his friend in her ass. The friend rolled off her. She lay atop Jason for several minutes, composing herself, then rolled off, and all three of them just laid there on their backs.

Finally, Jason spoke and asked her, “Do you need to be getting back now?”

It surprised her to hear her voice saying, like she was listening to someone else, “No, I don't. The idea of him wondering where I must be is pretty hot. Let him wonder a little longer.”

Jason pulled her over and placed her between him and his friend. Her and Jason started making out again while his friend sucked her big tits. He worked his way down the bed, kissing her thighs. She opened her legs to him, and he began to eat her pussycat. Before she knew it, his cock was sliding into her married closet while she and Jason continued to make out.

Jason straddled her chest, laid his cock on her face, and then rubbed it across her lips until she opened her mouth and started to suck it. He reached under her head with both hands and pulled it up until he could get his cock down her throat.

“That's it, you cheating slut.” He told her, “Suck it. Swallow my black cock.”

His friend finished inside her before Jason was ready to cum.

“Give me your hands,” he told her.

He twined his finders among hers, continuing to pump his cock into her mouth.

“Make me a cum bitch,” he commanded, feeling himself about to erupt for a second time.

Seemingly out of the blue, he said, “I love seeing your big wedding ring as you suck my cock.”

When he couldn't hold back any longer, he pulled out of her mouth and aimed his cock at her hand, cumming all over her ring.

“I love that your clueless husband must be wondering where you are too. I love fucking cheating white wives like you.”

She'd been gone over four hours when I heard a knock at the door.

“I didn't take a key with me,” she said. You're wondering where I've been?

“Fuck,” I said, “you had me really worried. I was about ready to call the police and report you missing.”

“I thought I'd like to have a proper drink,” she said, “so while you were gone, I decided to go down to the Blue Martini. I tipped the waitress to send you down there to meet me, but you never showed up. So I went back to the casino, found the waitress, and was told you'd gone back to our room.”

When my wife has lied, she has always done it so easily and convincingly. She smiled, realizing in the moment that Jason must have asked the waitress to send me back to our room to get me out of the way.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I was a little *****, and it kind of hurt and pissed me off at the same time, so I decided to make you suffer. I walked over to L'Auberge and played the slots until I got tired and thought you'd suffered enough. My feet are killing me now, walking back and forth in these heels.”

“I went back to the room because that's where I was told you went,” I replied. “When I didn't find you there, I scoured the mall for about an hour. I never thought of going to L'Auberge.”

“So,” I finally asked, “anyone notice your anklet?”

“No,” she lied, though I believed her at the time. “I hope you're not too disappointed.”

It was two more years before she confessed to what she'd done.
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