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My Slut Wife
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
When I married Susan, we were both 23, out of college, and beginning
our careers. Neither one of us was a virgin, and during the twelve years
we've been married, neither one of us has pried into or even discussed past
lovers.
Susan is a "Lady," in all the positive connotations that word brings
to mind. She is a bit on the "proper" side -- cordial, but cool (almost
aloof), until you get to know her. We have had a wonderful marriage,
though unable to have children, and she is my wife, my friend, my lover.
All of this is to emphasize the degree of my recent shock.
Several months ago, I was digging the comforter out of the back of the
closet. In pulling it off the high shelf, I also brought down a small
cardboard box that popped open when it hit the floor. I ducked, cursed and
looked down to see books spilling out of the box. The books were diaries.
In the box were eleven diaries of various design and size that covered
the years Susan was in seventh grade through the year she met me.
I know what I SHOULD have done, but I didn't do it. I was home,
alone, and I began reading the diaries. Over the next two weeks, I slipped
one out at a time, read it at the office, and returned it to the box, until
I had completed all eleven of them.
I discovered I had not married the woman I assumed I had. I had
assumed that, like me, Susan had experimented with sex, to varying degrees,
in high school and through college; having 2, 3, maybe 4 or 5 lovers over
those years. I had made love to only 2 other women (really just girls)
before I met Susan, and I thought, because of her looks (so important in
the school years), that she had probably been more active than me. On that
point, I was correct. From reading the diaries I determined that my cool,
formal, lady of a wife had had over 260 lovers in those ten years! I feel
that I'm liberated, but still, in my mind, that number of lovers would
qualify my wife for the description of "slut."
Susan's young sex life was almost too full and too painful to believe.
She began in eighth grade, when she was only 13 years old, and one of her
teachers seduced her. This wasn't the only occurrence of sexual abuse of
her as a child. Just while she was in high school, several neighbors, an
uncle, two older cousins, two fathers of girlfriends, three brothers of
girlfriends, three men that she babysat for, a father of a boyfriend, a
guidance counselor, a therapist and two other teachers all had sex with
Susan. At the same time, Susan was dating boys her own age, sometimes two
a weekend, and never saying "no."
The diaries covering her high school years were sad, because Susan
knew she was being used and didn't know how to stop being a victim. She
talked to a counselor and a therapist, and they both ended up fucking her.
In college, Susan began to take control of her life in every way except
sex. There, she remained a victim; always "Miss Roundheels" and the
"easiest" piece of ass in the school. Reading the pages now, at age 35, I
could see the hurt and confusion, but the words Susan wrote were usually
happy, full of hope, and filled with wonder at the adventure she was
experiencing.
And it was an adventure. In ninth grade, alone, besides the "normal"
dates she had, Susan screwed two guys in a car after they dropped the first
girl off after a double-date; fucked and sucked four guys at a party; was
screwed by her two older cousins in the woods on Thanksgiving Day; and, for
the finale, sucked and fucked 7 players and the manager of her high school
lacrosse team, in the locker room, after the championship game. The only
thing she complained about in her diary was the smell!
Several times in college, Susan fucked two, even three different guys
on the same night, usually at parties. She spent a weekend at the ocean
with 4 guys, fucking all of them. Screwed four different professors. Was
the "mascot" for a heavy metal band one summer (A summer basically spent
drunk and on her back or her knees, of which she wrote "I hope I'm strong
enough to never again do the gross and disgusting things I did with and for
and to those five guys!!!!") Spent a Spring Break in Florida, competing
with two of her girlfriends to see who could fuck the most guys (Of course,
Susan won.) And, finally, spent an afternoon and night upstairs at a Frat
house, taking on all comers (Her diary said she lost count, but she thinks
it was in the 12 to 15 different guys range! Susan did wonder if she was a
"nympho" after that!).
One angry thought that I had, reading all of this, was that Susan
didn't go to bed with me for months after we started dating!
This wasn't my only angry thought. I couldn't get the number out of
my mind. It was overwhelming. I kept thinking of the number of cocks and
fingers and tongues that had filled my wife's cunt and mouth and ass. How
many gallons of cum had entered her body? I began to wonder what had
driven her, and if she was a "nympho." And then, I was filled with bile as
I wondered if she had stopped screwing every man in sight, or if only the
diaries had stopped. Was she still the easiest piece of ass in the city?
I became obsessed to find out.
I began by keeping track of the time we weren't together. I was
convinced that Susan couldn't have stopped "Cold Turkey," and I was going
to find out for certain.
I followed her sporadically for a few weeks, and she was always where
she said she was going to be. Soon, I was saying I had to work late or
meet friends, to leave her alone in the house. She didn't leave and she
didn't have men lined up and taking a number at the front door.
I continued until I realized that I was missing Susan. We had always
enjoyed our time together, and I was shortening that time to carry out some
obsession I had. I loved Susan, and she had never given me any reason to
doubt her love, or her fidelity. She hadn't lied to me about her past; I
never asked and she never volunteered any information.
I began to relax. And even though thoughts of the hundreds of boys
and men haunted me, I was working to put Susan's past behind me. It was
obvious Susan had managed to do just that.
All of that changed two years ago.
I attended a farewell luncheon for a coworker at his favorite
restaurant. It was on the other side of town from where I worked and we
lived, but the food was excellent. None of us intended to return to work
in the afternoon, so I stayed with the crowd, sipping my club-sodas-and-
lime.
I was the last to leave. Susan had a "Professional Women" dinner and
meeting and wouldn't be home until later; so, I had stayed to enjoy another
shrimp salad sandwich. On my way home, I passed Susan's office. Bad
habits are hard to break, because when I drove by the almost empty parking
lot, I saw Susan's car, and decided to wait for her. I should have just
parked next to her and invited her to skip her meeting and go have a drink
with me, but I didn't. I parked away from her car and watched.
Right on time, Susan appeared at the door and walked to her car. Just
looking at her made me warm up. Pretty beyond words, she still had her
great figure and fantastic legs. The red suit she was wearing was one of
my favorites, because the blouse she wore with it displayed her creamy
cleavage and the tight skirt emphasized her hips and legs. I was
immediately suspicious because it was a strange outfit to wear to a "career
women" organization's meeting!
I followed her car from a distance, because I knew where her dinner
was being held. When we passed the restaurant, I crept up to keep her car
in sight. Susan drove downtown and pulled into the parking garage next to
the Convention Center. Not wanting to pull in behind her, I decided to
make a trip around the block and then park.
That was a mistake. Rush hour traffic and getting past an accident
turned my two minute trip into a twenty minute ordeal. I finally got to
the garage and found Susan's car. I drove by it and parked on the next
level. My fear was that I'd never be able to find Susan in the downtown
area, and that my trip was for nothing.
I was very lucky. I spotted the red suit at the bar in the third and
nicest lounge I searched. I took a table at the back in a dark corner and
watched what was going on.
Susan was obviously enjoying being the center of attention for three
businessmen. She was turned with her back to the bar, and the men were at
her sides and in front of her. Her legs were crossed, giving the entire
lounge a breathtaking view of her thighs. As she laughed, she would bend
forward, and I could almost hear the three sets of eyeballs click as they
gazed down her blouse.
On the next round of drinks, I noticed that the gray-haired executive
placed his hand on my wife's stocking-clad thigh. Susan made no motion to
move it. After the next round, the four of them left the lounge. Susan
was arm-in-arm with two of them, and I was close behind.
They walked along the elevated walkways to the biggest hotel in town.
They were the only ones on their elevator, so I watched the numbers light
to see that they went to the fifteenth floor. I followed.
To my surprise, they didn't go to someone's room. The whole floor was
taken up with "Hospitality" suites for the conventioneers in town. The
corridor was crowded and loud, but I caught a glimpse of Susan and her
friends enter a doorway at the end of the hall.
I stopped off at one vendor's table, grabbed a name tag and filled it
in with an appropriate sounding company name. I took my time approaching
the last suite, spending over a half hour waiting for them to come out.
When I got there, it was a huge corner suite of two very large rooms. I
didn't see Susan or the men in the first room, so I carefully approached
the doorway to the second room. It was also crowded but I was certain
Susan wasn't there, either.
How had I lost them? I was certain I was in the right suite. I
grabbed a soda and sat down in a corner chair, pondering my next step.
I was almost finished my soda when the door on my right opened and out
stepped the gray-haired businessman I had seen with his hands on my wife's
thighs. I had thought that it was just the locked door to the next suite.
The gray-haired guy grabbed a drink at the bar next to me and smiled
at another businessman with the same kind of name tag on, "Whew! Hot stuff
in there."
The second guy glanced around, "I saw her when you brought her in.
Prime stuff. Both Roy and Phil in there?"
"Yeah, but go ahead. I guarantee SHE won't mind! She told us she was
a real party girl...and she is!"
The second guy smiled, nodded and opened the door. In the seconds it
was open, I could see Susan's red suit lying on the floor. My wife was in
there and she was fucking strangers.
I didn't know what to do. I was angry, hurt, shocked, and yet, part
of me was excited. I decided to sit there and wait for Susan to come out.
By ten, the crowd was thinning out, and a sales rep was trying to sell
me a million dollars worth of microchips. I hadn't left the room, and, in
addition to the original three men, four more had gone into the room where
Susan was. There were still two men in there with her at that moment.
By eleven, three more men had visited Susan, and only the sales reps
and some drunks were left in the suite. I played drunk, and no one asked
me to leave.
They weren't as careful opening and closing the door and I had had two
glimpses of my darling wife. The first time, she was spread-legged and an
old man was pounding her ass into the bed. The second time, she was on her
knees, sucking a cock as a young blonde with an erection was crawling up
behind her. What a lady!
Finally, the party was wrapping up. By my count, fourteen men had
sampled my wife's charms. I stood up to leave and saw that Susan was still
on her back on the bed. Her eyes were closed. Without thinking about what
I was doing, I walked into the room, dropped my trousers and shorts and
crawled between her legs. Her cunt was so full of cum, that as I pushed my
cock into her, I could feel the other men's jism squeeze out around my skin
and into my pubic hair.
Susan moaned and said, "Mmmm, the party's not over, yet, eh?" Then,
she turned to look at the man fucking her. Her eyes popped open in
surprise and shock.
"There's at least one more cock here that you haven't had, yet,
tonight, you disgusting slut." I was so angry and hurt and hot, I was
spitting my words at her. "Now I know what they mean by 'sloppy cunt.'
That's what you have right now, bitch."
Seconds later, I had the most intense orgasm in my life. I pulled my
cock out of her slimy pussy, pulled up my pants and walked out of the
suite.
I was showering when Susan walked into the bathroom.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. "By my
count, I was the fifteenth cock you had shoved up your cunt, tonight. Is
that a personal record?"
Susan reddened and glared back at me, "No, the record's still two
years ago, when I fucked an entire softball team and the two umpires in the
back of a bar. The total that night was nineteen."
"You slut! You cunt-bitch-slut! Is there anybody in the city you
haven't opened your pussy for?"
Susan raised her hand in a fist, but she collapsed into my arms. "I'm
sick, Tim. I don't know why I do it. I never wanted to hurt you. Leave
me, right now. You don't deserve this!"
Still holding Susan, I filled the tub. I undressed her and placed her
in the water, washing the cum and sweat of other men off of her skin.
She never stopped crying, as I dried her and put her into bed. I
warmed oil on my hands and massaged her legs and back and arms. I covered
her, turned out the lights, and got under the covers with her. Only sleep
let her stop sobbing. She was gone in the morning, and I never saw her
again.
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