Now it’s my turn. Jenny.

Have you read back to see who the fuck is Jenny?

It makes a change from the overdone Alice!

I am Ken’s wife, Mrs Strutting Cockerel.

Oh her! The one who shut up shop like so many women do.

Yep! That’s me. A lot of wives pull down the shutters and restrict, no it's not a restriction but a ban, access when they reach a “certain age.” Trust me, guys, I understand your pain. There’s a hell of a lot of you out there with overdeveloped wrists and an address book of adult sites. Does it help to know you are not alone? You are in the majority. Forget what raunchy tales your mates tell you. They lie.

None of their wives are whores in the bedroom and a domestic goddess in the kitchen.

My reasons are medical, which you don’t need to know about.

I know what a horny bugger Ken is and although we both pretend, I know exactly how and where he gets his end away, as we refer to it here. I approve. It’s still me; he comes home to me every night.

He thinks I don’t know about Vintagebabe, from Glasgow. She’s a particular favourite. He has a stash of her messages and VERY explicit pictures on his laptop. I have to say she is a very imaginative woman. Blonde, unusual beautiful grey eyes, big tits, of course, wide areolas and perky prominent nipples. She has a tantalising, shaven pussy and not a tan line in sight. That magnificent body is a nude sun worshipper.

Her butt is full and round. I know Ken will fantasize and wank over these pics and yearn to put her over his knee and spank her. It just asks for a skelp or two, or more! Ken is very into spanking. He probably imagines doing it in our garden where he can be watched by our neighbour who is a voyeur. A polite way of saying he is a dirty old man!

I wonder if she flaunts and teases very publicly. If I looked like her, I definitely would!

They’ve never met or spoken, but Ken regularly masturbates to her pics. I hear him. I know what these sounds mean.

I used to love sex and once, only once. I let Ken photograph me. We'd both been drinking and the subject of my straight-laced sister and her sex-starved husband came up. We both knew he lusted after me. I was sitting on the high stool on the island in our kitchen.

Ken suddenly announced. “Let's have some fun!”

I was always up for fun then.

“Take your knickers off!”

I don't need to be asked twice. I tossed them to him. He grinned.

“Now lift your skirt,” which I did.

A couple of pics on the phone.

“Legs open wide.“ More pics.

We both got bolder and hornier. I bent over the island. Skirt up, hands pulling my cheeks apart to show my female workings, really full, luscious lips and two enticing holes. Then I turned around and removed my huge tits from my bra and licked them.

The set was complete. My brother-in-law was in for a treat.

Laughing together, we selected the most arousing, explicit, downright dirty, ones. Before I changed my mind, they were sent.

Then reality took over. We'd just sent my sister's husband pics of my hairy pussy, lady lips, butt and boobs!! For a minute, I was stunned. Then I started to leak, my nipples went hard and I was all over Ken in the brightly lit kitchen. If the neighbour was at his window, which he usually was, he'd think he'd won the Lottery. His hands would be down his y-fronts and working like mad.

You ask how I know it's boring old y-fronts?

Simple. I've seen the washing hanging out. His Mrs wears white, sensible, granny pants and no-nonsense, don't-touch-me bras. I deliberately put out my erotic, sexy lingerie to get him going.

I digress.

During what can only be described as frantic sex. Ken’s phone pinged. The brother-in-law. He was ecstatic.

Lucky Bugger, whore, tits, fanny was the gist of it. I loved it. Ken and I then set up an “encounter.”

Would I agree to let BIL fuck me? Affirmative.

Would Ken object? No

Would Ken watch? Of course. Daft question.

We arranged an evening on the nearby secluded, dune-strewn beach.

No not one destined for a Golf Course. The Donald has not bought them all up!

The sun was going down, so we lit a fire, spread blankets, and organised alcohol.

Then came my sister and her hubby who was openly leering at me. The plan was to get my sister drunk. It didn't take much till she was fast asleep. Ken wasn't interested in Shagging her.

Then Ken lay back, pretending to be asleep too.

Took seconds for BIL to strike. He pushed me back into the blanket. The flames from the fire cast shadows on his face making him look dangerous and fucking hot.

He was kissing me roughly, tongue hot and probing. He pulled my sweater up, no bra, feasting on my bare breasts. Grabbing, sucking, nipping. I was literally putty in his hands. He was good. Very good.

His hands were up my skirt, impatiently pulling my panties off. He wasted no time. Spreading me wide and plundering into my wet, eager pussy.

His fingering technique was superb. Finding my pulsing clit in seconds. I could hardly breathe. All thoughts of my sister and the spectating Ken were gone. I grabbed for his zip and out tumbled his massive erect cock. I desperately wanted to taste it but he had other ideas. He was inside me, thrusting, thrusting until I couldn't hold back. What an orgasm! He came at the same time, filling me with warmth.

I'll never forget that night. Fucking my sister's husband in the firelight on a secluded North East Beach with my husband a keen observer.

I had thought about skinny dipping that night. Then sanity won. It's the North Sea!!!

It never happened again. It was never really spoken about. Ken discovered to his amazement that although it was arousing and erotic to watch, he was not up for sharing me.

That was a few years ago. My sexuality has dimmed, but my love for Ken never will.

That is why I accept and pretend to be blissfully unaware of The Strutting Cockerel’s sexual activities.

I also silently thank Vintagebabe, whoever she is, for satisfying the needs and wants in him that I no longer can.