0 comments/ 15940 views/ 0 favorites Marty By: magichands I am a massuer, well, I used to be anyway. But coming down ill nearly a year ago put a cramp in things. Having a Doctor for a wife is an asset at times like this, and she researched options for weeks. Then suddenly we were on an airplane to Boston. After some treatments there, and a week's followup, I was back home. I set the Oxygen bottle down as soon as we got home, and still haven't picked it up since! That was one hell of an improvement! So I ran some ads, it had been quite awhile since I got to work, and I was feeling up to it! I booked 3 the first week, one new one and a couple of regulars. So I was sitting around the house, doing the brush my teeth bit, waiting for a brand new client! New ones are exciting, I have no idea at all from the voice on the phone what I am going to get. I was bored, to be frank, I did Shirley on Monday, she is this sweet old lady. I mean even older than me, WAY older! I rubbed her butt, looked at her pussy, knowing she had no idea at all I had a clear view. Funny thing is, old ladie's pussies look just as pretty as the young ones, even though some of them have grey hair. Oddly, most don't....I don't care, I just do my job, trying to make my client feel good, if I do that, they come back, I get paid, it is the way it works... But I don't need any money, I got a fat check every year, been coming in for 7 years now. I get roughly $75,000.00 every year from the bonding company from a stupid $1.00 slot machine in Reno. Hell, I stuck in 2 bucks and got my life changed, it happens.. Well, I just told you my damn life story, almost, I bet you want to know about Marty. The doorbell rang, I opened the door. Here stood a little thing maybe 5' tall, and I bet if I dipped her in Molasses she wouldn't come up to 100! Dang....! K...I am a true pervert, I LIKE little women. The funny part is I am not a pedophile, I like little grown up women! A little tiny in shape trim 40 year old just yanks my chain by God, I come up in 3 seconds! She goes, "Hi, I am Marty, bet you are Ted!".... I went, "Uhhh..yes, Hi!" looking over her shoulder at the 45 year old guy standing there... Marty smiled at my reaction and introduced her husband, "Duke"... "Duke?" I thought, "What the hell kind of name is that?"... Oh well, the whole world sucks, I invited them in. We sat and chatted for a bit, no big deal, I noticed that "Duke" more or less stood around, I managed to get him to go *uhhh, yea" and "naw", sum total... Finally I just went for the throat, I asked Marty, "What do you expect from today?" Marty grins at me and says, "Well, we heard you do sensual massage, and Duke wants to watch!"... I almost choked, then I managed to maintain my very best bedside manner. "Well, I do aim to please"... I showed Marty to my room, and stepped out to allow her to get comfortable. This left me in the other room with Duke. I was trying to think of something to say when he went, "Well Doc, do you think this will work?" I was thinking, "Wait a minute, I am not a Doctor, and just what are we seeing if it will work?"...When he says, "It has been 4 weeks since I could get it up, I hope this does it!"... Well, just shit! Now I am a sex therapist, God help me... But I maintained, off to my room we went. Duke sat in a chair, I took a deep breath, and went to work. Marty was laying there with not a stitch on, she wasn't even under a drape! She also had her legs a bit further apart than was decent or normal. I just went to work, feet, leg, other foot leg, up the thigh, get to almost, up the other thigh, same thing. No response of any kind. I popped a couple of trigger points. Nothing.. I leaned on a couple of spots that I happen to know burn like hell...Nothing.. I had long since forgotten Duke, I had a challenge! I had her flip, no hesitation, same zombie attitude...I did a couple of tease tricks I know on the upper legs, she twitched, now I knew she was forcing the no reaction part. I looked at her breasts, they were small, with nipples that blend in, the very tips were soft and tiny. So tiny as to be almost odd.. Time to play dirty, I reached in my case and got a washcloth and covered her crotch. Then I got a pillowcase and covered her breasts. These are mind games. Completely naked, they can just lay there and concentrate on not becoming arroused, put a bit of covering on them and it distracts them. Then nature sneaks in, it works. Just like a tiny Bikini is sexier than blatant nudity, yep, it works.. I went back and worked on her legs, her abdomen, every place except where I had just draped. Every little trick I knew, teasing, touching. All designed to stimulate senses. Suddenly she was getting warm, then hot. I worked my way up her legs, finally I had just an inch to go! She was now panting, Duke was leaning forwards in his chair...I let my fingers brush across her, lifting the small towel. When I could see her plainly before, she had just a cleft, nothing visible at all. Now I felt her, full and engorged, wet and ready. I let my fingers brush her, she gasped, she was ready. I knew I had a woman under my hands that any man with an erection could take, I thought about doing it myself, then remembered Duke. I let my fingers tease, I turned my body so he could see where my hands were, what they were doing. Marty's hips were lifting, I allowed my fingers to enter her, explore her. I reached out with the other hand and rolled one of her nipples between my fingertips, just the very tip. I made sure he could see my every move, every touch. I saw him lean forwards, then I saw the bulge in his pants. He came towards us, I just slid back out of the way. This strange man wasn't even seeing me! I watched as he freed himself, he was average, maybe 6" or so. No doubt he was erect, ready to go. He leaned over his wife as I slipped out the door, I heard her moan, then sigh, just as I let the door sofly close. I went out to my living room and left them alone. 30 minutes later, give or take a bit, Duke came out. "You can go in and fuck her if you want, you earned it!" he told me..Then he looked down at the floor. "I have a wife" I told him, with a smile. "OK, thank you!" He said. Duke then looked up at me, directly. It was almost like he had really seen me for the first time. I realized I was looking at a man who had given his wife up more than once. He was struggling with himself and his inability. I had timed it right, I had left him to his wife at the perfect moment. Marty came out a couple of minutes later. She looked at me, then looked down. I found the almost exact same motion interesting, and realized I was looking at a long time married couple with sexual problems. I knew what to say. I told her, "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever worked on!".. She looked at me, just smiled, and walked out the door. Duke looked at me and said "Thanks", set a $100 bill on my table and they were gone.. I have thought of them several times since....I wonder if my phone will ring?.... Marty-Always Smiling When I got into MBA school, I was required to take some undergrad courses since I had been a non-business undergraduate major. In the accounting class, I met Marty, a late 40s mother of two divorced from an eye surgeon. I was 27. She had never worked and was going back to college to get her BA, had kids in their early 20s, and apparently made out very well in the divorce--had a big fine, paid-for house, drove a top-end Benz, and groomed and dressed impeccably. Very assertive and sociable, she was an accomplished "networker," and could meet and impress 20 people in a single hour, as I had observed between classes. She was very smart, too--made straight As--and really enterprising, as well--taking most of the divorce settlement and investing it in houses that she leased. She already had like 6 or 8 and was buying more. Her looks: The first thing you'd notice about Marty was her smile, full upper and lower lips, wide and friendly with large, fairly straight, porcelain-white teeth, and she was always smiling, always. The lines in her face sent a message of "interesting woman" rather than "lady getting on up there." Her emerald-green eyes sparkled over high cheek bones, and though she wore lots of make-up, she always looked like a Hollywood make-up artist had applied it, and the shade of her lipstick was always a perfect match with the polish on her professionally manicured nails. Auburn with just a tinge of red (probably colored, but who cares?), her wavy hair was styled immaculately in a simple but appealing swept-back, medium volume fashion to just below her shoulders. She stood about 5' 5" in heels and had a classic 1940s "hourglass figure," but, even so, the expensive, "all-business" but not masculine style clothes she wore did not bring attention to her physique. Overall, her appearance telegraphed utterly together and professional. But more on her looks later. Her home-leasing enterprise is how I really got to know her. She'd buy the houses cheap because they needed repairs, and could charge high rent because they were in nice neighborhoods in the 'burbs, but needed to fix them up in order to do so. I had a home restoration business at the time which focused on renovating early-1900s inner-city homes. Though it was not my market niche, she asked me to give her an estimate on fixing up a home that she had just bought and was anxious to get leased in a hurry to turn the cash flow positive. So I took a look at it, and it needed painting inside, carpeting, new linoleum in the kitchen and baths, some ceiling repairs, windows caulked--easy stuff--and, of course, it was vacant--fast work. I gave her my pretty high estimate, which she tried to negotiate down, but I held my ground and promised I could finish it in a week, so she said OK. I finished the job a day early and she was very pleased with the work and paid in cash. I went to her own fabulous home one evening to drop off some supplies for a new house near her that she had bought but not yet taken possession of. As she gave me the grand tour of her place, I noted that all her stuff was only the best of the best--Persian rugs, antique furnishings, Lalique crystal, Yamaha stereo, Bosendorfer baby grand piano--the works. She said she had not had dinner, asked if I'd eaten yet, which I hadn't, so she ordered some delivery Chinese and uncorked what I figured was an astronomically expensive bottle of 1957 Chateau Rothchild before we sat down to sip it and wait for the food to arrive. She was a great conversationalist and very interesting. She showed me lots of pictures of her son and daughter, who looked like Miss America, and told me she was single, not dating anyone at the time, and would be home from college for Christmas break the following week. Really? Those pool party photos certainly placed her as a finalist in the swimsuit competition, and the sorority dance pics of her in that plunging v-neck black dress already had me puckering for her ample breasts. Then Marty said she thought her daughter and I would really like each other. So at this point, I figured Marty was laying the groundwork for a little get-together with her superb daughter, whose bones I had already decided would be appropriate to jump on our second date. The bottle empty, Marty produced a second of the same vintage just as the Chinese food arrived. We ate the spring rolls, hot-and-sour soup, and moved on to the garlic beef as we talk, talk, talked. We covered many topics, but then she asked if I thought she had a sexy voice. In truth, since we had a business/academic relationship, I'd never really thought about it, and I was surprised that she asked me such a thing, having sized her up as really quite conservative. Come to think about it, she did have an extremely sexy voice--low and husky with a refined Southern accent--so I told her, "yeah." Then I changed the subject back to her daughter, who currently occupied my interest as a most devine repository of my spermatazoa. Marty said everyone thought she and her daughter bore a strong resemblance, that they had won some mother-daughter look-a-like contest the year before. Well, upon consideration, looking again at the pictures in the album, Marty and her daughter DID look very similar, remarkably so. Pointing at a large, full-length photo of her daughter, Marty proceeded to cover their similarities feature by feature: eyes, nose, mouth, ears, cheeks, chin, and "figure," which she stood up to model, quickly smoothing her perfectly manicured hands across her bustline, down her narrow waist, and around her hips. Though I had always regarded Marty as an attractive older woman, I was now, for the first time, thinking of her differently, somewhat sexy. Marty was effectively transferring my interest from her daughter to her. Then Marty told me why she had asked me about her voice, couching it as a secret I must promise not to tell. My interest was piqued, and I swore I would not tell. She said she made erotic tapes! Now, this was like hearing that Madeline Albright chews tobacco--totally out of character. Marty told the entire story of how she'd gotten involved by simply answering the phone one day, and the guy on the other end had told her what a sexy voice she had, and then referred her to someone else, who, in turn, referred her to yet another person, a woman who owned the company who explained to Marty the business, what would be required of her, and how much money she could make--a lot. Wow, erotic tapes, huh? What kind of erotic tapes, I asked. She asked me if I would like to hear one. Well, I guess I did. So she went into the other room and returned with a small (naturally high-end) tape player and handed it to me. Apparently, I would have to be the one to press play, so, after a moment of hesitation, I did. Long pause, then clearly Marty's voice. To listen to Marty's recorded voice and not associate it with her, it sounded like a much younger woman. I don't remember the exact wording, but the first part of the tape was fairly mild, though alluring, and went something like this: "Hi, my name is Vanessa, and I'm a 23-year-old blonde swimsuit model. I got into it because I've always liked to swim, to feel the water coursing over my body. I used to swim on my high school team and usually won races, so I went to college on a scholarship. But the competition there was a lot tougher, and I often didn't win. Though I'm athletic and slender, my coach said it was because of my build. You see, my breasts are too big; they measure 36D even when I pull the tape real tight around them. I met some people at a meet who wanted to take some pictures of me in their company's swimsuits, so I gave it a try and got the job. I'd always enjoyed the way guys would look at me in my own bikinis, so it was really easy to pose for the photos in front of the mostly male crew. The problem was, some of the company's suits were a lot skimpier than my own and showed my tan lines, so I started laying out nude. Since my hair would poke out of the tiny bottoms, I also had to start shaving completely bare, if you know what I mean. To keep my tan, I take my lunch out on my deck at midday when it's sunny and lay out naked for an hour or so. Sometimes I catch the neighbor guys checking me out, and it kinda gives me a rush knowing they are staring at me, but I just pretend I don't notice. Once in a while, I'll even put on a little show. I'll squirt lots of oil all over me and rub it on my bottom, squeezing my firm little buns. Then I'll massage the oil into my breasts and pull on my nipples until they get real pointy, which feels really good." I stopped the tape, and Marty asked me what I thought. I told her it, was, well, erotic, that her voice was a natural, but that I was frankly surprised that she was involved in such a thing. She said that was because I had only seen her "public" persona, that there was another side to her, looking back at me sexier than ever. She pressed the play button. "I don't know why, maybe because I don't have time for a boyfriend, but I'm getting bolder. A few weeks ago, after I had been lying there a while in the warm rays, I just couldn't get my mind off of sex. I hate it when that happens! I turned over and was rubbing some oil on my belly when it ran out of my belly button, which is deeper than most skinny girls', and the oil ran out of it onto my bare privates as I sat up. The bottle had been sitting in the hot sun, and that warm oil felt really good down there. I looked all around and didn't see anyone, so I just started rubbing my finger around my pleasure button. I play with myself all the time inside, but I just threw caution to the wind and did it right there on the deck! I'm not self-absorbed or anything, but I do have a pretty pussy, so I like to look at myself as I masturbate. My lips are always kinda big and flappy, but they get really engorged when I'm turned on, just like my clitoris does, and it all looked so nice glistening in the bright sun. So I kept on rubbing it until I just couldn't stand it anymore and slipped a finger up inside me and worked it faster and faster in and out. Oh, it felt so good! Getting wetter and hornier, I slipped another finger in as I twiddled one of my nipples with the fingers of my other hand. I was on the brink of an orgasm, but just couldn't quite get there, so I put a third finger in. I must have worked on myself for a good 10 more minutes, but still couldn't bring myself to the Big O. I needed something bigger inside of me, know what I mean? I had a good-size chrome vibrator, but it was inside in the bedroom, and I knew if I stopped then to go get it, I'd lose the moment. I looked around on the deck for something and there on the plate beside my unfinished sandwich was my pickle. Since I was a kid, I like to eat those big, whole dill pickles, the kind they sell in the giant jar on the counter at the checkout register, but it was, well, really big. Should I? So I picked it up. It had been sitting there on the dark plate in the sun for an hour now, and the first thing I noticed was that it was warm, which was good, since no girl would want a cold pickle in her. It was shaped just like an erect penis, kinda curved, so I licked off the pickle juice, and it even felt like a hard man, though thicker than any man I'd ever had. I love to give head, so keeping my three fingers working my cunny, I sucked on it, putting the wider end in my mouth. This was turning me on even more, and I noticed the spot on the end where I'd pulled the stem off was kinda like a guy's pee hole, which I like to tongue when I give a BJ, so I did. After a few minutes of this, I couldn't wait any longer so I slowly slipped the narrower end in me. The further I got it in, the better it felt, and it was definitely the biggest thing I'd ever had in my pussy! Squatting in a baseball catcher's position, I worked it in and out of me as I watched my lips disappear on the in-stroke and mushroom out on the out-stroke. Darn, I was loving this!!! I kneeled forward to angle it up against my clit, and those little pickle bumps felt devine sliding back and forth across it, as my oily boobs bounced up and down. OK, I was gonna cum, and cum I did big time, piercing the quiet with a long, uncontrollabe scream--aaaaaaaah!!!!! My pleasure quickly turned to embarrassment. Had anyone heard or seen me?" Marty turned off the tape. I had not looked at her the whole time it played. "Well," she observed, "Looks like you enjoyed it," as she stared at the prodigious bulge in my thin poplin trousers. I finally forced my eyes to meet hers. She was, indeed, an extremely sexy woman I now realized, nearly forgetting her daughter. Wrapped up in the tape, I had not noticed that she had changed some things while we sat there listening to it on the leather couch as I slowly trained my eyes downward. The long Southwest style denim dress, the kind that button all the way down the front, that she had on had become unbuttoned all the way down to the silver-buckled belt, revealing her 36D breasts and just-visible nipples held up high with a red underwire half bra. And she now sitting in a Indian position, I could see that, below the belt, all the lower buttons were unfastened, as well, affording me a clear view of a closely trimmed bush surrounding her luscious labia in a wet, sideways smile. "Would you like me to take your clothes off and make love now?" she asserted. "Well, I really do need to get over to the library, but..." I kidded, leaning over to French-kiss her. She unbuttoned my shirt and kissed my chest, gently biting and sucking my nipples as I unbuckled her belt and slid the dress from her shoulders. Standing up together and rejoining me in another French kiss, she slid the shirt from my arms and deftly unbuckled, unfastened, then unzipped my trousers, letting them drop to the floor. As I went to step out of them, she broke the Frenchy and kissed her way down to my boxers, grasping the elastic band in her teeth and pulling them to the floor. She removed my loafers, pulled off my shorts, pants, and socks, then stood back up standing straight as a soldier, ankles together, to stare at my nakedness. And I stared at her, but for the demi bra, nakedness. I like to look at a woman standing up, and she was, though 20 years my senior, stunning. We just stood there looking at each other for what seemed an eternity. We would soon be fucking, but what was the rush, and she obviously felt likewise, supremely confident and proud of her body. I smoothed my large hands all over her and was overwhelmed at her extreme hourglass figure, heretofore hidden by business suits and dresses. I could hardly get over her narrow waist, which I guessed to be maybe 22 inches at most. 36-22-36, I thought, going back to the quintessence of beauty 40 years prior. Finally, I picked her up and lay her on the leather couch, lingering in a another long French kiss before kissing my way down her neck to her magnificent breasts, then on down her tummy and navel and pussy and down the inside of one leg to her fabulous feet then over to the other foot, up that leg and on to her snatch. Hearing the Swiss clock there on the side table chime 7 o'clock, I decided I would eat her sweet pussy for precisely one hour, which I did, she softly cooing and running her dextrous fingers through my hair to climax several times. Her full, dark labia contrasted dramatically against the bright pink vaginal interior, and her barely hooded rigid clit made it so easy to lick and suck and pet that I could have gone for another hour. Though she liked her equally dark pucker hole licked, she pulled away when I tried a finger in it, so I steered clear of that action. The most amazing thing was when she would cum: she would actually spurt out prodigious juices. When I rapidly vibrated my finger across her clit and held her open just so, love juice would spew out 6 or 8 inches! Then, following a brief pause after the strike of 8, she stood up, sat me down, and said, "Now, an hour of oral for you." Whereupon she commenced by unhurriedly French-kissing me (she was an outstanding kisser), then kiss my ears and neck and chest and arms and hands and back and buttocks and legs and feet and at last, my cock. After kissing it all over, she licked it up and down and all around like a lollipop, getting it nice and wet, then hand-job it expertly as she sucked and licked my balls and anus. When it came to the blow job itself, there were no better than Marty. She knew exactly how to suck with just the right amount of suction, swirl her tongue around and around it within her mouth, and use her fingertips to tickle my balls as she did so. She also had that rare sense of when and how hard to clench her thumb and forefinger around the base of the shaft at the precise moment to keep me from cumming. And she knew the appeal of gazing straight up into my eyes with her big, green blinkers as she suck, suck, sucked away. But perhaps the most amazing talent of her many was her deep-throating ability and technique. I already described her wide smile, and that's another way of saying she had a big mouth. She could not only get all seven inches of me into her mouth and down her throat, but she could also actually get both balls in her mouth at the same time!!! All without a single gag or bite. Now how many women can do that? It was with this astonishing feat that I blasted my first orgasm. It was almost 9:00 PM. "Can I cum now?" Yes, she nodded, and I let her rip. She never missed a beat--swallowing over and over. In fact, when I pulled out of her mouth, there was not even one drop of post-climactic semen leakage left. The clock chimed 9 times, and we poured another glass of wine and ate the fortune cookies. Hers said, "You will soon experience a great and pleasurable event." Mine read, "A wonderful surprise awaits you in the unlikeliest of places." We chatted some more about her making erotic tapes, and I followed her about the downstairs as we took the plates to the kitchen, and she straightened every little thing and emptied waste paper baskets in every room. I find it incredibly sexy watching an attractive, naked woman standing and moving about doing all kinds of regular, everyday things, and so I was really enjoying this little mundane interlude. But Marty was still not altogether nude--she still had on that red demi-bra--and I had purposely not removed it even though I was dying to unleash those big hooters. But I would wait to do that a little later. At 9:30, I felt the twitch down below while we were in her bedroom, so this seemed like the time for round two. French-kissing her standing next to the canopied bed, I fingered her wet again from behind as she two-handedly stroked me up to a full erection. Laying her back into a missionary position on the tall bed while I stood on the floor beside it, I plunged into her deep in one motion as she gasped. Looking me straight in the eyes and breathing in unison, I rocked slowly in and out of her with my hands clasped around that tiny waist. When I squeezed tightly, I could almost touch my hands together. I bent her knees back to her ears to get a better view of myself in her cunny, and what a clear and beautiful view it was. She was getting worked up fast, so I increased my pace as she locked her arms around her legs to hold them in place. The insides of her thighs were pushing her boobs together in an even deeper cleavage with the whole of her areolas clearing her demi-bra. Though I wanted to see the entirety of her tits badly, I still chose to save them for a later moment. Without ever withdrawing, climbing into the bed, I steered her sideways into a spoons position. Her soft bottom squished sensuously against my thighs as we twisted to French kiss while I rubbed her clitty. I could feel her pussy contracting now, and she raised her upside leg up to give me deeper penetration, and, whispering, "I like it from behind like this," she started to cum, and, like before, gushing gargantuan gobs of gash juice. Marty-Always Smiling Thankfully, that loosened her up just enough to keep me from cumming as I steadily pounded to lengthen her orgasm. As she wound down, but never coming out of her, I scooted beneath her as she rared up to assume a woman-atop-man-facing-away position. She was so adept at sensing what I was doing that she always moved in perfect harmony to the next position. Not many people can do that. In this position, I could see once again her lovely hourglass shape, only from the back side for the first time. Sitting perfectly straight up with her soft lower legs alongside my torso, I massaged the bottoms of her feet while she fucked me steadily up and down--not too fast, not too slow. Marty's back was a work of art, but it was interrupted by the bra strap, so I decided to unhook it, and as it popped free, she pulled the straps from her shoulders. I leaned forward to rub the strap lines on her back and could tell she was doing the same, massaging the pent-up feeling from her breasts out of my line of sight. I enjoyed her bare back and buns plopping against my hips for a while longer and was just thinking how I'd turn her around to face me, when she did so her self. Turning to her left, she placed her right leg over the top of and to the left of my two outstretched legs, then spun around in one smooth motion with her bent left leg over the top of my stomach to fully face me. There was Marty's lovely green eyes again, and ohmygod, her bare breasts!!! What a set of knockers--big, pendulous, and heaving over her skinny waist. I reached up and grasped them from below, lifted them up, then let them fall down. They bounced so nicely. Just filling my large hands, I squeezed them together and pulled them apart over and again. Then I just watched them sway for 10 minutes as she glided up and down my cock with the world's wettest pussy. Sensing what I wanted next, she leaned forward to place them squarely in my face, and I buried it between her deep, soft cleavage as she pressed them together with her hands from the side. I suckled them like a newborn babe, one side then the other, back and forth, perking the already hard nipples out even further. Marty was smiling, just like she always was. My hands firmly around her orbs, we French-kissed forever before I went back to her boobs to rattle my cheeks between them, then suck and nibble them still more. More than a mouthful is a waste, eh? And what a waste! And, just below them, what a waist! But the clock from the other room chimed 10 times, and there was more serious fucking to do, so I spun her back away from me, and pulled her up into the doggie-style position. "This is the way I like it best," said Marty. "I know; that's why I have you this way," I assured her. She arched her back, rared her bottom high, and I pounded away like it was the last fuck I'd ever have. Every few minutes, seeing her tits dangling so alluringly down, I could not help but reach around to fondle them. I would fuck her just shy of making her cum, then suddenly slow down, only to gradually build up the pace to re-enact the crime. I don't know how many times I did this, but the sounds she was making during it all made those on the tape seem tame by comparison. But the scenario I had inadvertently put myself in was that I was not going to be able to cum in her. A man can increase his ejaculation threshold to the point that he's just not going to spray, and that's just what I had done, so, still fixated on her tits and sucking prowess, I devised a plan: I would fuck her next cycle until she started to cum, then pull out, vibrate my finger on her clit as earlier until she came all the way, and, in the demitasse cup I'd spotted on the bedside table, catch the spurting pussy juice, which I'd use for lubrication, as you'll see. And so I carried out the plan. She came like I've never seen a woman before or since, gushed like Old Faithful, and filled the little cup to overflowing. I pulled her over to sit towards me on the edge of the bed and, full cup in hand, stood on the floor in front of her to explain what I wanted to do. "Marty, I want you to squeeze your breasts tightly together with your hands from the sides, careful not to cover your nipples, then I'm going to pour this cup of your warm pussy juice all over and between them for lubrication and titty-fuck you for a little while. When I give you the signal..." "I'll suck you until you cum," she finished. The lady was a sexual mind-reader! And so we did just that. Let me tell you, the sight and sensation of my dick plunging up and down through her cleavage all slippery with her very own pussy juice as she manipulated her tits up and down was unbelievable. And then, even better than I expected, she proved to be able to gobble my full length into her mouth as my balls slid up through her boobs, then continue to suck the end of it as I pulled it down through her cleavage. My cum threshold was so high, I really was wondering there for a while if I was going to spurt, but I finally did, erupting in an orgasm to end all orgasms. Naturally, she drank down every drop, looked up smiling, just like she always was, and the clock chimed 11:00. We continued to meet from time to time at her house for more, lengthy sexual interludes over the next 3 or 4 months. Marty always seemed to arrange the schedule so that I never did meet her daughter. We broke off the sex in Spring when I met the woman I would eventually marry, but I continued to do the occasional house repair for her. In a case of it-really-is-a-small-world, it turns out that my girlfriend knew Marty's son, Scott, where she had worked with him back during college at a local department store. A few years younger than us, he was a very handsome and cultured fellow, to whom one of my girlfriend's co-worker girlfriends was attracted. To say Bonita was sexually aggressive would be a gross understatement, and so, knowing he was a great dancer, she asked Scott out for a dinner-and-dancing date, then, of course, fuck like rabbits back at her place. Well, her new place was the walk-up apartment immediately behind my girlfriend's, just across the alley from where I parked my car. I'd noticed Scott's car back there earlier in the evening, so I figured that was their date night, and when I left to go home, I spotted him speeding down the alley like he'd just seen the boogie man. He didn't even wave. Then I heard Bonita screaming down from the top of the stairs. She was completely naked, and big-eyed, petite thing that she was with dark pointy nips protruding from her firm little ta-tas, she looked terrific! "Scott's a goddamned faggot, gay as a fucking blade!!!" she screeched. "I need a hard cock, like right now!" If ever there was a sure-thing lay, this was it, but, being the faithful boyfriend, I held my dick in check but not my laughter and she recounted the evening: They'd had a great dinner and wonderful dancing—she paid for everything—and she was ready to fuck the moment they got back to her apartment. So, before even closing the door, she pushed the straps off her little black dress and let it fall to the floor--revealing her bodacious, panty-less little body to him—and proceeded to undress and kiss him on down to his cock, which she said remained soft despite her vigorous sucking. He finally admitted he was gay, grabbed his clothes, and literally ran with terror out to his car. Though I found this hilarious, I nevertheless felt sorry for Bonita, so I called my best buddy, who had the hots for her, and told him to get there ASAP. He was in Medical School, and, despite having just finished a 24-hour shift in the ER, got there in 10 minutes and fucked her until daybreak. He later told me what an excellent and uninhibited lover she was—she loved to suck dick very aggressively--and thenceforth we slightly altered her first name to "Bone-eater!" Anyway, to conclude the main story: Marty had some tenants who totally trashed one of the houses I had fixed up for her immediately before they moved in, and their deposit didn't begin to cover the repairs, so she sued and asked me to appear in court as the key witness, since I was the only person other than she who could testify as to the condition of the house. I agreed and appeared at the courthouse for several days in a row, but the tenant's attorney played the stall game and got continuance after continuance. On the day the case finally went before the judge, it was the very day of my final oral exams for my Masters degree--the last day I could take them--so I absolutely could not appear as a witness, and Marty knew my orals were that day, but she said she'd have subpoenas issued to force me to appear anyway. So, to dodge the inevitable process server, I left home at 4 in the morning and hid out in a secluded spot in the library to study for the orals and didn't show up until the exact scheduled time for the 3-professor oral exam panel. As I walked in, the secretary handed me the subpoena, which I simply slipped into my shirt pocket. I passed the orals and got the MBA with high honors. I called Marty the next day to see how the case came out; she lost and was incensed with me. Mad as hell, she hung up in my face, and I never saw or spoke with her again. For perhaps the first time, Marty was not smiling, and I've always thought it ironic that it was my "orals," the very thing she was so good at, that ended our relationship. Marty Misbehaves It was a large project and it had been occupying all my time for almost a year and when I say all my time I mean just that. I worked until late at night and I brought work home with me to do on weekends. The survival of the company I worked for, and by extension, my survival, depended on the project being finished on time and on or under budget. My wife was not happy. The thing I heard most was "Bullshit. You can find a job anywhere else you want to," and that was probably true, but it would also have meant starting over at sixty percent less pay and benefits and throwing away the sixteen years that I had invested in my job. To me that would not have been a rational decision, but then rational decisions and my wife Marty cannot coexist in the same room. It did not matter to Marty that I was busting my ass for our future financial security. All that mattered to her was: - You never take me anywhere any more. - You never spend any time with me. - I'm tired of being here with nothing to do except watch TV. - All you ever think about is that stupid job. - When you are home you are always too tired to do anything with me. - You like what is in your briefcase more than what is in this dress. Finally, after several months of her harping I lost it. It had been a very bad day. A couple of deliveries not made on time; one delivery came in not to specs and had to be refused, one man lost for at least two weeks to an occupational injury and one of my best men had quit. I walked in the door and hadn't even set my briefcase down before Marty started in on me. It was the final straw. "Shut the fuck up Marty. If your life is so fucking bad just pack up and get out. Go find yourself some twit that can't even come close to making his salary match your spending habits. You didn't mind my job when it made the money that got you this house and everything in it. Now I'm working the same job trying to make sure we keep all of it and I don't want to hear another fucking word from you about it." Marty just stared at me for a minute and then she said, "Okay Bill, if that's the way you want it, but I'm going to take the last word here. Last weekend you told me that you were too busy to go to John's party and you told me to go by myself if I needed to get out of the house and so I did. You know who else was at the party Bill? Ron Holbrook, Harry Short and their wives. The names ring a bell Bill? Ron is your supervisor I believe and the last I heard Harry still owned the company you work for. They can relax and take their wives to parties and have a good time and you can't? There is something wrong with that picture Bill. Either something is going on that you are not telling me or they are playing you for a chump." "No one is playing me for a chump, and..." Marty held up her hand to stop me. "Here's the deal Bill. You go ahead and be their slave, but I'm not going to stay cooped up in this house while you do it. Get used to me not being here in the evening because I'm going to have a life. Dinner will always be ready, the house will always be clean and the laundry will be done. But while you are in your home office or working late at the job site I'm going to be out enjoying myself." Then she turned away from me and walked into the kitchen. I didn't waste my time trying to explain to her that Ron had already announced he was retiring at the end of the project whether it succeeded or not. And that Harry was a multi-millionaire and that the company's closing it's doors only meant more time available for him to jet to Aspen or wherever. She wouldn't, or couldn't, understand that I was working for my future, not some one else's. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next day was Friday and when I got home I found Marty getting dressed to go out. She already had her heels and hose on and was just slipping into her dress when I came into the bedroom. I watched for a bit and then said, "Going out?" "Yes." "Where?" "I don't know yet. Mary and Robin are going to pick me up and then we are going some place where we can dance and have a good time." "Do you really think that's a good idea?" "I don't see a problem." "Are you considering the message that you will be sending out? A married woman out by herself and letting men come on to her." "I won't be alone. Mary and Robin will be with me and you are more than welcome to join us, but I'm not staying home again and watching TV while you go into your home office and work. As far as the message that the wedding rings will send, I can always take them off and leave them here on the dresser if it will make you feel better. How about it?" "No, leave them on." "Not that silly, I would never take them off and you should know that. I meant would you like to join us?" "I can't. I have to revise a couple of sets of specs so I can Fed-Ex them to the supplier." "Okay. I have no idea how the night is going to go so don't bother to wait up. The bars close at two so I should be home by three unless the evening is a dud." She was just touching up her makeup when a horn honked outside. "That's them, got to go" and she kissed me on the cheek and hurried out of the house. I worked on my specifications until around eleven, caught CNN for a bit and then went to bed. I woke up needing to pee around four and Marty was sleeping soundly on the bed next to me. I went into the bathroom and took my whiz and was halfway back to the bed when one of the worst parts of human nature grabbed me. I went back into the bathroom and pulled the clothes that Marty had worn that night out of the dirty clothes hamper and checked them out. I even went so far as to sniff the crotch of her thong, but I found nothing suspicious. Had I really expected to? I told myself no, but something had made me look, hadn't it? ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next morning over coffee and toast I looked Marty over as closely as I dared without being obvious looking for a hickey or some sign that she might have done more than had a few drinks and danced, but I saw nothing. That night set the pattern for the next three months. Marty would go out two or three nights a week with her friends and I would look for signs that she was straying, but I never found a thing. The only thing that changed was the frequency of our sex life. For the past year it had been two, sometimes three times a week, but after Marty began going out by herself it increased. Some nights she would wake me up when she got home and sometimes she would wake me up in the morning after one of her outings. One morning I asked her about it. "I'm a good looking woman Bill and I get hit on a lot when I'm out. I get felt up on the dance floor and I get a lot of cock poked into my leg and tummy when I'm out there dancing. It makes me horny and when I'm horny I want to make love. Since I assume you don't want me having some one else take care of the problem I bring it home to you." That bit of information, instead of putting my mind at ease, made my imagination go into overdrive as I imagined all the things that men could be doing to my wife on the dance floor or sitting in a booth. The more I thought about it the more certain I was that something was going on. It just wasn't natural, to me anyway, to think that a married woman could go out bar hoping two and three nights a week and have nothing sexual happen. The more I thought about it the more irritated it made me and finally that irritation drove me to have a confrontation with Marty over what she was doing. She came home on a Saturday night and woke me up by sucking on my cock. When I was awake she swung herself over me to mount me and I twisted away. "Leave me alone Marty, I don't want sloppy seconds." She froze and for several seconds she didn't move and then, without a word, she got off the bed and left the room and I rolled over and went back to sleep. She wasn't in bed with me when I got up in the morning and she wasn't on the couch. I looked around for her and saw that she was out on the patio sipping coffee. I poured myself a cup and headed for my den to try and get some work done. Half an hour later Marty came into the den and sat down. She watched me work for about five minutes without saying a word and then she said, "Is that what you really think? That I'm out there whoring around?" "Why else would a married woman spend as many nights a week as you do out running the bars? I know what you told me when you started doing this shit, but two, three and sometimes four times a week? I don't think so. That isn't just a night out with the girls, not by a long shot." "That's what you really think and you don't care enough about me to try and stop it?" "We've had this conversation Marty and we've done it to death. You know where my head is until this project is over. You are a grown woman and you get to make your own choices. That you can't see that what I'm doing is for us, for our future security, is something that I can't help. When the project is over and I know where I stand financially I'll step back and take a look of what you have left of our marriage and decide whether or not it is worth trying to save." "That's it? You have just automatically assumed that I'm a slut and that I'm out there just happily fucking any man who buys me a drink or dances with me and wants some pussy in exchange?" "Yeah Marty, I would say that just about covers it." "How can you say that - think that- about someone you profess to love?" "How can some one who professes to love me go out bar hoping three or four nights a week?" "I told you Bill, I just need to get out of the house. I can't stand sitting in front of the TV every night while you disappear into your home office." "I can understand the need to get out once in a while Marty, but three and four nights a week isn't just once in a while. Three or four times a week is only a half step from being out there all the time. I also notice that you never go to a movie, to the library, play cards with your friends or do any other activities like that. It is always bars. Places where you can go and, by your own admission, find men to poke their cocks into your leg and feel you up. Just what do you expect all of that to tell me?" "I don't know. I just thought that you knew me better than that. For your information, no man other than you has ever had his cock in me and no other man ever will. I do admit to a little hanky-panky and I may have even just slightly crossed the line once, but my pussy, mouth and ass have remained cock free except for yours. I'm sorry that I can't furnish signed affidavits from the men I danced with, but frankly, I never expected to need them." "Hanky-panky? What does that mean?" "When a guy dances with me and then wants to join me at my table I make it clear to him that I'm married and that I'm only there to have a few drinks, enjoy the music and dance a little - nothing else. But you know as well as I do they are still going to take a shot and try to get lucky. If he is a good dancer, buys me drinks and sees to it that I enjoy myself I don't slap his hands away when they start to roam and I don't fight it if he wants to neck a little. I've been kissed and felt up and I have even gone out to the parking lot and sat in a car with a guy and necked, but I have never been fucked." "What did you mean when you said you slightly crossed the line?" "In one case, a special one, I let a guy finger fuck me and I gave him a hand job, but that was a one time thing." "A special case?" "Yeah, Robin's brother. He's had a crush on me for years and he was home on leave just prior to being sent to Iraq. When Robin told me he had a crush on me I thought it was sweet and after watching all the news coming from that godforsaken place I kind of felt bad for him. What if he didn't make it back or what if he came back with missing pieces? Like I said, a special case. I haven't cheated on you Bill." "Not yet maybe, but it will happen sooner or later. Some guy won't play by your rules or take no for an answer or someone really smooth will run a game on you and make you think that he is a special case or someone will drop something in your drink. But it will happen Marty; you can't spend that much time in bars and not have it happen." "I'm a big girl Bill and I can take care of myself." "Yeah Marty, sure you can." We didn't talk for a couple of days and then one night Marty came to me, "I'm horny Bill and I can't take this wall that is growing between us. I need my man in bed with me." I stood up, "Lead the way." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ For a while Marty cut back on her outings to a Friday or a Saturday night, but after about three weeks she was back up to Friday and Saturday and by six weeks it was three and four nights again. The project deadline was closing in on me and I had made my feelings on the subject crystal clear so I didn't say anything more. And then one night, about three months before the project was due to end I came home and found a note on the kitchen table: "Bill, I'm sorry, but it just isn't working out between us. Good luck on your project. Marty" I read and reread the note and then I got on the phone and started calling around. Her mother and her sister hadn't heard from her and neither had Mary, Robin or Tina who were the girls she went out with. I came to realize that there wasn't anything that I could do. If Marty wanted to leave I couldn't stop her and if she wanted to get in touch she would. I put her note in the center desk drawer and then buried myself in the project. A week went by and I got a phone call from Marty's mother telling me that Marty had called and that she was all right. All she told her mom was that we had differences that couldn't be resolved. Once a week I called Mary, Robin and Tina to see if Marty was around and they always told me that they hadn't seen her. Whether it was true or not I never knew. I didn't hear from any lawyers so I guessed that we were still married although she could have gone to Reno for a quickie and not bothered to tell me. After a month or so I gave up thinking about it as the project was coming to an end and it was consuming all my time. I barely noticed the time as the project deadline rushed toward me and then it was all over. We finished three days early and just barely under budget. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, bonus money flowed, and I was promoted into Ron's job when he retired and life slowed down for me. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I still hadn't heard from Marty, but I did check in with her mother from time to time and she always told me that Marty had been in touch and was okay. Two weeks after the project ended I made my weekly calls to Mary, Robin and Tina and found out that Marty had shown up at the one of the bars the night before. All she told them was that she had to leave town to take care of some personal problems and that she was glad to be back. I told them to tell her I said hi the next time they saw her and then I hung up. When I got home that night Marty's car was in the driveway and when I went into the house I found her sitting at the kitchen table with a half empty bottle of Merlot sitting in front of her. She looked up at me when I came into the room and I couldn't see any emotion on her face, not love, not hate, not pity, not anything. She refilled her glass, poured on for me and pushed it my way. "Sit down Billy and let me get this over with so I can get out of here." I sat down at the table, picked up the glass and took a sip. "You called it Billy. You looked in the old crystal ball, saw it coming and told me just what was going to happen. No way I said to myself, I'm a big girl and I can look out for myself, except that I didn't. It happened just like you said it would. Somebody slipped something in my drink. I found out later that it was two drops of Special K and one tab of Ecstasy. I got fucked that night. I got fucked real good. Seven guys enjoyed Little Miss Marty and they taped it. Marty in glorious living color with a cock in her mouth, a cock in her ass, and a cock in her stupid, "It can't happen to me" pussy. And if that wasn't bad enough I was told that unless I wanted you to see the videotape we were going to do it again and again and again only without the drugs. "I couldn't let you see that tape. What it would do to our marriage was certain, especially after you made your little speech, but I couldn't let something like that take your mind off the project, not as close to being done as you were. So, I let myself be blackmailed. Five times over the next two weeks and never less than seven guys. Then one night I told them to fuck off and die; that somehow you had found out and had thrown my ass out of the house and that I was leaving town the next day. And then I told them I would make them a deal. I'd do it one more time in exchange for the tape. They bought it and I spent the next twenty-four hours as the personal slut of eleven guys. "When it was over I headed for San Diego where my Aunt Millie lives. I told her I was running away from a marriage gone bad and she let me stay with her. When mom told me that your project was finished I quit the job I had and came back to let you know what happened." She finished off her glass of wine and picked her purse up off the floor and set it on the table. "I think I know you pretty well Billy and even now I can see it in your eyes. You are going to say "We all make mistakes, but we can work it out. There isn't anything that we can't overcome as long as we love each other." You would be wrong Billy. The thing is, I liked it. I liked having six or seven guys trying to fuck me to death. I even did it a couple of times when I was in California. Actually, it was more like once a week. San Diego is full of horny sex starved sailors and Marines and I tried to be patriotic and help them out. "Anyway, to make sure that you realize what a slut I've become I've brought you the tape. I was drugged to get me going, but I think that you will see my natural enthusiasm shine through. I'm sorry Billy, I really am. I should have listened to you but I didn't and now I'm paying the price." She got up and headed for the door, leaving the tape sitting in the center of the table, and when she got to the door she stopped and turned, "I love you Billy. I always have and I'm sorry that I did this to us" and then she was out the door and gone. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Her enthusiasm did indeed show through and that tape put every professionally done porn tape I'd ever seen to shame. Marty did it all, or they did it all to Marty, depending on your point of view, and I confess to having beat my meat four times by the end of the tape. That night I didn't get much sleep and it wasn't because of the tape; it was because of my feelings for Marty. I loved the stupid bitch and I really didn't want my marriage to her to end, but I honestly didn't see how it could survive. I could buy the drugged part and the blackmail that followed, but how was I supposed to get past the "I liked it" - liked it so much that she continued doing it in California? I woke up the next morning with no better idea of what to do than I'd had when I went to bed. The day at work was a wasted day because all I could think of was Marty. What it came down to was that Marty and I needed to talk. She was in the third bar that I hit, sitting in a booth with four guys and I walked over to them. "Marty, we nee...." And one of the guys in the booth said, "Take a number asshole, the bitch is with us." I grabbed him by his long hair, jerked him out of the booth and dumped him on the floor. I kicked him hard in the ribs and then looked down at him, "I'll just take your number sperm breath and if you ever call my wife a bitch again I'll stomp your head into jelly and if you come up off that floor any way but peaceful I'll do it anyway." Marty Misbehaves I turned back to the booth and said, "There is a table over there where we can talk" and I held out my hand. She took it and I helped her out of the booth and walked her to the table and we sat down. "It looks like I interrupted your evening." "No, I may have become a slut, but I'm a selective slut. That bunch wasn't going to get anything but a dance or two and the privilege of buying me drinks. What brings you here?" "You. Us. You dumped your bomb on me and then got up and left, but you didn't say a word about what happens next." "I thought that was self-evident. You watched the tape?" I nodded a yes. "What else needs to be said? You could never live with the woman on that tape. That's me Bill. The new me - the real me. I didn't say anything because I knew that once you saw that tape and the fact that I told you that I liked doing it hit home your next move would be to call the lawyers." "That wasn't one of the things that I thought. My first thought was how could we go about salvaging enough out of this mess to keep us together. Next came "Be serious Bill, no way you can live with what she's done" and that was followed by "You have to try. You love her to damned much not to try." I love you Marty. I know that there have been times during the past year that you questioned that, but it is true. I can't give up on you, on us, without trying everything in my power to keep us together." "I'm glad that you feel that way honey, but it won't work. You just aren't the kind of guy who can sit home and wait for me to come home knowing what it is that I'm out doing. You aren't the kind of guy who can watch or participate so what does that leave us?" I started to say something, but Marty held up her hand, "Let me finish baby. What I'm saying is that I WILL do it again. I know me a lot better now, and I know that a week from now, a month from now or a year from now I'll be on my back trying to get six, ten or fifteen guys to fuck me senseless. I could say, "Thank God you love me enough to let me back in your life and I'll make it up to you, I promise, and I'll be a good girl from now on." And I would mean it Billy, I really would." "But?" "No Billy, I would really mean it and I would try hard baby, I would try really really hard, but I know as sure that the two of us are sitting here that one night you would come home from work and find a note on the kitchen table telling you I was going out with the girls and to not wait up. And what would happen when I came home? You pushed me away once when I hadn't even done anything saying that you weren't going to take any sloppy seconds. Has your position changed? Do you honestly think that you could follow seven or eight guys into me? Or it could be even worse; you could come home to find that I haven't even left the house to do it. "No Billy, it wouldn't work. I'll always love you and I will always treasure the fact that at one time you loved me, but it just won't work." "We have to try Marty. Even if it does turn out the way you say it will, we still have to try." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ We did try. Marty went home with me that night and I tried to make up for three months of going without. We made love more times that night than at any other time in our marriage. It was sick of me, but every time I thought that I couldn't get it up again I thought of Marty's video and I'd rise to the occasion. That tape drove our sex life although Marty never knew it. She thought that I had destroyed the tape and she wasn't aware that I watched it whenever she wasn't around. One night she asked me what had come over me, "Are you eating Viagra by the handful?" I think that in the back of her mind she knew what was going on - I was doing my best to keep her from going out and looking for a half a dozen other guys. Nine months went by and just as I began to think we were okay I came home to find what she had said I'd find someday - a note on the kitchen table: Sweetie, I've gone out to have a drink with Robin and Mary. Dinner is in the microwave. Set it for two minutes. I may be late so don't wait up. Love you Marty I was torn between waiting up for her and finding out for sure or going to sleep so I wouldn't see her when she came home. I convinced myself that if I didn't see evidence of her being gangfucked I could make myself believe that all she did was go out for a drink with the girls. She was asleep next to me when I got up the next morning and I got up and left the room without looking for any sign of what she might have done. She was still asleep when I left for work. When I got home that night dinner was ready and Marty was her usual cheerful self. Neither one of us mentioned the previous night and that night when we went to bed we did our best to destroy each other sexually. Three months went by before it happened again and again nothing was said by either of us the next day. As long as it didn't come up I could force myself to believe it was just drinks with Mary and Robin. Then the intervals got shorter: Two months, then six weeks, a month and then every two weeks and finally it was every Friday and I could no longer delude myself about what Marty was doing. She might be starting her evening with the girls, but she was ending it with the boys. I should have left well enough alone. Our sex life was fantastic and there was no doubt that we loved each other, but for some perverse reason I just couldn't leave it that way. One Friday night I waited up for Marty. She was surprised to see me and I detected a touch of sadness crossing her face. She knew, even if I didn't - at least at the time - that I had just put the kiss of death on our relationship. "Hi baby. Finally decide to have some sloppy seconds? Well come on lover, let's get to bed and I'll fuck your eyes out." She was wet, sloppy and loose and I wondered how many had beaten me into her that night. It was as if she had read my mind. "How does it feel baby? Think you could learn to like it. There were nine tonight lover. Two spics, three niggers and the rest were white guys. I am an equal opportunity slut baby. Cocks have no color as far as I am concerned. Does it make you hot baby? Does it turn you on to know that black cocks have emptied into me? That Mexicans have put their own type of salsa in me? Come on baby, fuck me hard. Make me cum honey, show me that you love your whorish slut." I wouldn't have believed it possible, but I fucked her four times that night and listening to her sluttish talk made me cum harder than I ever had before. For the next six weeks I'd wait up for Marty on her Friday nights or she would wake me up when she got home. I can't even begin to describe what was going on in my head at the time. I was disgusted with myself for enjoying Marty's well used pussy, but I gloried in being married to my own personal sex goddess. Six days a week she was a loving an attentive wife and every Friday she became a whorish slut, but she was my whorish slut! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Once again I couldn't leave well enough alone. I had to take the next step in the natural progression that had started on that first night. "No baby, it isn't a good idea." "Why not? God knows I wallow in what you bring home." "That's not the same baby. There is a big difference between knowing, feeling and actually seeing it happen. Please honey, trust me on this, it is a bad idea." "You don't understand Marty. I need to see it and after I see it I may even want to participate." "Honey, I'm not the same woman you know when a group of men fuck me. I say things and I do things when I'm in a sexual frenzy, things that will bother you. I won't mean what I say, but my lovers will be pushing buttons and getting me to say things that they want to hear; things that you won't want to hear. You might never want to kiss me again after you see some of the things I do with my mouth. Please honey, things are good between us right now, let it be." But I wouldn't and finally she said, "Okay, but If we do it we do it the way I say." That Friday found us in the parking lot of one of her favorite bars. "You sit here in the car until I come out. It may be an hour or two, but be patient. Nothing is going to happen if I have you with me." An hour and a half later she came out with eight guys who split up and headed for their cars. Marty got in and said, "Follow that Chevy pick up." We drove in silence until we got to a Motel 6 and as we pulled onto the lot Marty said, "Honest honey, it will be best if you just let me out and go on home." "I'm here Marty. I've come this far, I'll go the rest of the way." The guy in the Chevy went into the office and came out several minutes later waving a key. He went to room 124 and guys started climbing out of their cars and following him. Marty looked at me and said, "Please baby, remember that I love you and that whatever happens when they get me flying doesn't mean a thing" She looked at me one last time hoping that I would let her out and then go home and when I didn't she shrugged and said, "Okay, let's do it." It started out bad. When we walked into the room one of the guys looked at me and said, "Who's he?" "My husband." "What's he doing here?" "Whatever he wants." The guy looked over at me, "Come to see a couple of real men fuck her?" A black guy piped up, "You come for lessons in how to take care of her?"" Another guy said, "He must need them real bad or she wouldn't be out looking for the likes of us." "He doesn't come across as a wimp at first glance, but he must be one. Why else would he stand by and let other guys fuck his old lady." Marty spoke up, "Hey, what did we come here for, to talk or to fuck. Tony, put on the boom box." I read a couple of faces and they were saying, "Need your old lady to bail you out, to take the heat off of you?" The black guy must have been Tony because he picked up a boom box and turned it on. Music began to play and Marty began to do a strip tease and as her clothes came off the men in the room were trash talking and aiming it at me. "She is one hot bitch, it would take a real man to keep her happy." "Maybe it's a dick size thing. Maybe he wants to keep her happy, but just doesn't pack the gear." There were several other comments and I was starting to get steamed. With eight of them there I was going to get my ass stomped, but I had just about had it with the wimp shit. Marty was naked by then, except for her high heels and as she swayed to the music she said, "John, you paid for the room so you go first. How do you want it?" "Suck my cock and then I want that tight ass of yours." Marty sank to her knees and said, "Bring it to me lover." All talking stopped and all eyes were on Marty as she wrapped her lips around John's cock and went to work on him. Her hands came up to caress his balls and one guy said, "Jesus, I wish my wife could suck cock like that" and another guy said, "She does, at least for me" and everybody laughed while the first guy turned red. To deflect attention away from him he turned to me, "You suck a lot of cock?" I felt the anger build up and he saw in my face that he was about to get fucked over big time so he tried to back off. "By proxy I mean. You eat her out when she comes home from being with us?" I made the mistake of backing off a little so he went charging ahead again. "A real man would eat her out. If he could let her fuck around like you do he should be able to show her he loves her by chowing down on her beaver when it is full of cream." Before I could say anything Marty finished sucking on John's cock and got up on the bed. She got on her knees and buried her head in a pillow and John moved in behind her and began easing his cock into her ass while she moaned into the pillow. Once John was buried to the hilt in Marty and he started fucking her whatever the assholes were saying didn't come through to me. All my attention was on Marty as one man after another used one of her holes. Marty screamed, she cried and she begged them to fuck her harder, to fuck her faster, and to make her cum. I was the only man in the room who hadn't fucked her; some of them were on there second time and one was in her for the third time. I was sitting there, my palms sweating, wishing I had a video camera when things really went bad. Tony was buried in her pussy, her long legs up on his shoulders and he looked over at me when he said, "You like this cock baby?" "Oh yes, I love your cock." "You like my big black stick more that you like your wimp hubby's dick?" "Yes lover, you're much better, fuck me baby, fuck me hard." "Your hubby is a wimp isn't he?" 'Yes baby, a wimp. Push it in lover, push it in deep and fuck me." "He can't fuck you as good as I can, can he?" "Nobody fucks me as good as you baby, keep doing it baby, keep fucking me, I'm almost there baby, bring me over." "Want the wimp to come over and finish you off?" "No" she cried, "Don't stop, don't stop now, you do it, I'm almost there baby, don't stop." "What's the matter? Isn't the wimp any good in bed?" "Not like you baby, bring me over, make me cum, make me cum." "Everybody in this room can fuck you better than he can, can't they?" "Oh yes, oh god yes, don't stop, don't stop, I'm almost there, get me there baby, get me there.' "Not while he watches. Tell him to leave. Tell him you need real men fucking you. Tell him you have no time for wimps." "Please baby, don't tease me, get me there get me off." "Tell him to leave." "Oh god, leave Billy, go home so they can fuck me." "He needs to leave because he's a wimp, isn't that right." "Yes, a wimp, he's a wimp, he can't fuck me like you can. Go home Billy, go home so they can fuck meeeeeeeee" she c screamed as she had her orgasm. Tony pulled out of her with a smirk on his face and said, "Next." The rest of them had seen the game he was playing and it must have looked like fun because the next guy stepped up and said, "Where do you want it sweetie?" Marty was down from her orgasm yet and she said, "I don't care, just put it in and fuck me." "Not until you tell the wimp to leave." "For gods sake Billy, go home, leave, take your wimpy ass and get out of here so I can get fucked." John laughed and said, "So you can be fucked by real men, right?" "Yes real men, need to be fucked by real men, not wimps, real men, come on and fuck me" she screamed as he shoved his cock into her with one hard push. "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, fuck me, fuck me hard." "I can't fuck you, the wimp is still here." "God damn it Billy, go home. Get the fuck out of here, I need cock, real cock, go home Billy, get out of here and go the fuck home." Suddenly it was as if a light had been turned on illuminating everything. Why hadn't I seen it before? It was al so clear now. I was a wimp! That was the real reason I couldn't keep my wife at home, keep her faithful to me; I just wasn't man enough. Would a real man let his wife do what I had been letting Marty do? No he wouldn't. Would a real man have gone after her and tried to get her to come home after seeing that video of her and hearing her say she liked it? Again, no, and no to the question "Would a real man wallow in his wife's cunt after she had been gangbanged? In that instant I realized that everything that these men had been saying and thinking was true. I really wasn't much of a man; I'd let Marty turn me into a wimp. I got up and headed for the door and John sniggered, "If you needed proof guys, there it is. A real man would fight for his woman." I was already in the car when Marty came running out of the motel room yelling, "Wait Billy, wait." She came running across the parking lot dressed in only a shirt belonging to one of the guys. She opened the passenger door and slid in, "Where are you going?" "To the house." "You are just going to leave me here?" "It's your party, I'm just a wet n blanket. Go have your fun. I'm sure that one of them will give you a ride home when it's over. Now go. You have cum running out of your cunt and I don't want it to stain the seat covers." We might have managed to make a go of it - only might - if she had said, "No Bill, I came with you so I'll leave with you, but she didn't. What she said was, "Well, okay" and she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and told me she would see me when she got home and then she got out of the car and went back into the motel room. I tried going to bed to sleep when I got home, but I was just too keyed up. I was wide awake staring up at the ceiling when I heard a car pull into the drive. When Marty still wasn't in the house five minutes later I got up and looked out the window. I saw kicking legs in the window and I turned and got back into bed. Marty had gotten a ride home and now she was giving her ride a ride. When she did finally come in she got into bed with me and her hand went straight to my cock, but I reached down and pushed it away. "Come on honey, don't be that way. Don't ever think that I think you are a wimp." "Unfortunately Marty, that is just what I do think." "Those guys were assholes honey, testosterone laden assholes and nothing they said should have bothered you." "It wasn't what they said Marty, it was what you said." "I warned you before we went that I would say things I didn't mean once they got me fired up." "Yeah, you did, and I could see you saying all those things if they wanted you to when I'm not there, but I was in the room Marty. I was there and you knew I was there. You weren't so far out in a sexual fog that you couldn't remember things. You never forgot anyone's name, not even mine. "Fuck me hard Tony", "My ass Steve, I want you in my ass", "Oh yeah Dave, like that." No Marty, you could not have said those things about me unless somewhere in the back of your mind you really thought them. They were there and in your sexual frenzy you relaxed the lock on the compartment you had them in and they all came out." "You can't really think that." "Oh I do Marty, I do indeed. I'm not saying that you don't love me, at least in your own way, but you do think that I'm a wimp for letting you do what you do; for just sitting back and letting you hang horns on me week after week." "You're wrong Bill, I don't think of you that way." "Of course you do, and you are right. I'm not much of a man if I can sit back and let you do your thing. It took the guys in that room to wake me up to the fact that I really am a wimp and not much of a man where you are concerned. All of a sudden Marty, I don't much like me." "Honey you are so wrong. I love you baby, you are the only man for me." "Sure you love me Marty, and why not? I let you do whatever you want and say nothing. What woman wouldn't want a man like that? No Marty, what you really think of me came through loud and clear tonight in that motel room and don't waste your breath in trying to deny it because I wouldn't believe you anyway. You can tell me that what you said was just bullshit and was said to please those assholes fucking you, but one of the strongest human emotions is anger. Anger cuts through weaker emotions and anger would have sliced right through that sexual fog you say you were in. When you said what you said about me you were angry Marty, very angry. There was no way that you could have yelled at me, "Take your wimpy ass and get out of here" and not know what you were saying." "That's not true baby. You've got it all wrong." "You came out of your sexual fog pretty damned quick when you though I was leaving you there. When I got up and left you had to know what I was thinking, what was going on in my mind. But did you grab your clothes and your purse and come after me? No Marty, all you were worried about was your ride home. If you really gave a shit about me you would never have gone back into that motel room and let me leave feeling the way that I did." Marty Misbehaves I stared at her for a couple of moments and then I said, "One more thing. I know that this is irrational as hell, but for some strange reason I never looked on your gangbangs as you cheating on me, but when you fucked whoever it was who brought you home tonight in our own driveway that to me was cheating. The bottom line Marty - leave me alone. I'll pack in the morning and be out of here by noon." "Billy please, don't do this to me." "I'm not doing anything to you Marty except cutting you loose to do whatever you want. No Marty, I'm not doing anything to you. Whatever I've done I've done to me." She started crying so I got up and left the bedroom and spent the rest of the night on the couch. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Packing to leave was a chore and a half as Marty begged and pleaded with me not to go. I was finally able to get packed and out of the house and checked into a motel. It took me a couple of days to find an apartment and I moved in and got on with my life. Marty wouldn't give up. She told me that she wouldn't give me a divorce and I told her that if I wanted one she couldn't stop me because I still had the tape she had given me way back when. "It is all the grounds I'll need." Besides, getting married again wasn't high on my list of priorities so it didn't matter to me if I got divorced or not. Months went by with Marty constantly calling me and telling me to come home where I belonged and I kept telling her no, that there wasn't anything there for me anymore. I was a healthy male and I still had a sexual appetite and so I headed out and became one of those guys who made the bar scene. I had a lot of trouble at first because most of the women I came in contact with knew I was Marty's husband. Once the word got around that I'd left her things got better and I started to score. Marty got pissed when she found out and I had to smile. She could fuck guys six or ten at a time, but I was a rotten bastard for fucking just one. Several times we ran across each other as we hit the bars and as soon as I saw her I left and went to another. Along the way I managed to bed Mary, Tina and Robin which absolutely infuriated Marty and she went after them. They laughed at her and told her, "Hey, you're the one who let him get away." Marty took to following me from bar to bar to try and break up any action I might get going and one night she slid into a booth across from me. "How about this? If you won't come home to me maybe we can just do the bar game. Whenever we find each other in the same bar you can take me out to the car and fuck me a couple of times like the other girls you pick up and we both win. You save time and the money you would have spent on the bitch, get your rocks off and I at least get that much of you. It isn't what I want, but I'll take what I can get." "Sorry Marty, but you are just a little too promiscuous. I don't why I never thought of it before, but you fuck way to many different men way too often. Sooner or later one of them is going to lay a social disease on you and I'm not all that keen on having you pass it on to me. I at least use condoms with the ladies I'm playing with, but I remember that sloppy swamp you used to bring home and that one gangbang I attended I didn't see even one rubber used. No Marty, if you don't already have something it won't be long before you do." "That was cold." "No colder than what you laid on me." "Damn it Billy, I want you. I need you honey, please come home." "Thanks but no thanks Marty" I said as I got up from the bar and went looking for some other place. Six months went by and a lot happened. Robin and I took a liking to each other and she moved in with me which pissed off Marty to no end. I ran into Tony one night and he sneered at me and said, "Hey, if it ain't the wimp." He was sitting at a table with three other guys and I walked over to him and bent down. My face was three inches from his when I said, "I'm going to go outside and stand by my car nigger. Why don't you come out and join me and find out what kind of game the wimp has." I went outside and waited for ten minutes and he never came out. Maybe a month after that Robin and I were having lunch when John and two others who had been at Marty's gangbang came in, saw us and headed for our table. I balled my fists and started to stand up and John held up his hands, "Whoa dude, I come in peace. Can we sit?" I nodded and the three sat down. "We owe you an apology man. I know it won't cut no ice with you now, but what we did that night wasn't aimed at you, it was aimed at Marty. We was always ragging on her about why a married woman had to go out to get laid. We used to tell her she needed to leave her worthless husband and find someone who could really take care of her and she would get pissed off and tell us that you were more of a man than all of us put together. We just laughed at her and asked her if that was the case what was she doing with us. She laughed right back and said, "He's only one man. There are seven of you here tonight and you can't satisfy me so why would you think only one man could. I'm here to save his life. If I stayed home he'd be in his grave in a month. "All we was doing that night was trying to wind her watch. She didn't mean a word of it man. We get her going and we can get her to say anything. One night we got her to say she would suck off a pony for us. Anyway, just wanted you to know that" and he went to get up but then stopped. "By the way, she didn't put us up to this. She hasn't had anything to do with any of us since that night. She blames us for breaking you two up. I'm sorry man, I'm really sorry." When they were gone Robin said, "You aren't buying any of that bullshit, are you?" "Why not?" "That 'my husband is more of a man than all of you' is just so much shit. Did you know that she fucked my brother? Told him that as young as he was he was still more of a man than her husband." "She told me that she gave him a hand job." "Oh please. She took him to the Motel 6 and fucked his brains out. The poor kid left for Iraq convinced that when he got home she was going to leave you for him." "I thought that you were her friend?" "I was and I still could be if she would just admit to herself that I didn't steal you away from her; that she threw you away and I got lucky and caught you on the rebound." "She actually took your brother to a motel?" "That's what he told me." "Maybe he was being just a little less than honest. Maybe he was just puffing it up to make him look like a stud." "I believe him. It was what she was doing with everyone else." "Everyone else?" "Oh come on sweetie, you had to know. As far as I know my brother was the only one she fucked, but she was decorating backseats and handing out blow jobs and hand jobs like party favors. I can't honestly remember a night that we went out together that some guy didn't get lucky." I didn't know whether to believe her or not. She could have been lying to me to poison me against having thoughts about getting back together with Marty, but then it didn't really matter because as far as I was concerned Marty was a dead issue. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Marty dropped out of sight for about six months and no one seemed to know where she was or have any idea of what had happened to her. One Tuesday afternoon my secretary buzzed me and told me that my wife was there to see me. And I told her to show Marty in and when Marty had taken a seat I asked her what she wanted. "I'm here to beg, crawl or do whatever I have to do to get you to come home to me." "We've already been over this ground Marty." "There have been some changes since we last talked." She opened her purse and handed me an envelope. "I've not been with a man in over seven months. Those are the monthly tests, last one dated yesterday, that show I'm disease free. Billy, I'm begging you. My life sucks without you. I'm not sleeping, I've got no appetite, and I'm just plain miserable without you. Please Bill, I'll do anything, whatever you want, just come home." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++= Robin took it well. Told me that if things didn't work out and she was still unattached to give her a call. She and Marty are back on speaking terms, but I seriously doubt that their friendship will ever get back to where it was. It has been almost a year now and Marty has done her best to spoil me rotten. I come home every night hoping that I won't find a note on the kitchen table and dinner in the microwave. Marty knows that she hasn't gotten my trust back yet and I think that she may be aware that she might never get it. I love her so I'm praying that we make it, but I'm still just taking it one day at a time.