86 comments/ 161291 views/ 25 favorites Marriage On The Rocks By: jack_straw My name is Teresa Dawson and I am an alcoholic. My alcoholism made it easy for me to be seduced into a sleazy relationship with my husband's boss, who used me as his personal whore and all-around slut, to the point where I let him pass me around to his friends, until my husband found out about it. We aren't divorced yet, but it's pending, and I think we've both accepted that our marriage is probably over. I hope you will understand that I am not trying to absolve myself of my share of the blame for the trouble in our marriage. What I did was wrong, I knew it was wrong from the beginning, and I did it anyway. I would give anything to take it all back. However, I believe with all of my heart and soul that Steve was manipulated, and I was seduced by a master con artist, George Fazekis, who deliberately set this entire episode into motion from the very first. I was not the first woman George duped in the manner that I was, and Steve was not the first man he manipulated for his own selfish ends. At this point, I guess I should first tell you about myself and my husband. I'm now 38-years-old, 5-foot-6, and I still weigh 125 pounds. I have dark hair and I wear it very short. We have two children, a daughter aged 14 and a 12-year-old son. Steve is 39. He is 5-foot-10, weighs 195 pounds, with blond hair that is thinning on top. He is currently employed with a family-owned company based in this city, with offices and branches scattered across the country. He was hired from another company in another state almost seven years ago, and was promoted to executive vice president for sales under George three and a half years ago, which is where this story really begins. Where do I start? I guess, at the beginning. I met Steve in high school, when I was a sophomore and he was a junior. We had a world history class together, and he was the smartest person in the class. It wasn't quite love at first sight, but it was pretty close. I was immediately attracted to him and him to me. Steve is definitely a case of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. He's nice-looking, but not movie-star gorgeous; fairly well-built, but not a fitness freak, and he certainly wasn't a jock; smart, but not necessarily a genius; open, but not particularly gregarious. I think his biggest attribute has always been his ability to mix and get along with anyone, in any group. In high school, Steve was friendly with every social class in our school, the jocks, the nerds, the brainiacs, the dopers, blacks, whites, and Hispanics. He just has a way of making people like him, and that's carried over into his career. Our first date was the homecoming dance my sophomore year, and when he kissed me at the doorstep of my house that night, I think that was when I realized I was falling in love with him. Steve and I went steady all through high school, and right before he went off to college, a week before the start of my senior year of high school, we finally went all the way. We'd been working up to it for a long time, making out heavily and feeling each other up, and stopping before we went too far. I was pretty religious at the time, and I wasn't sure I wanted to lose my virginity, but finally, one night we were alone at his house making out and we just didn't stop. Of course, we both felt guilty as hell afterward, and I sat on pins and needles for the next few days, waiting on my period, which thankfully arrived on schedule. However, later on, I quietly got on the pill, and when Steve came home for weekends, or for holidays, we did it every chance we could. We loved each other, and didn't want to wait. And I quickly grew to enjoy sex with Steve. I found that I had a well-buried carnal streak that took awhile to get to, but once it came to the surface, I could really do some damage in bed. That's an area I'll explore a little bit later, because it has a lot to do with what happened to me with George and his friends. When I graduated from high school, I went straight to the same university as Steve, and after my first year, we decided to get married. My folks urged me to wait, but we were hell-bent on being together. It wasn't that they didn't like Steve; to the contrary, they've always loved him. It's just that they were concerned that I really hadn't broadened my scope, so to speak, and looking back on it, I think they were right. I've thought about this, and I firmly believe that the seeds for what has happened to our marriage were sown very early in our relationship, and let me stress that they weren't anyone's fault. It was just the way things happened. Steve was the only boy I ever dated, and, until George got to me, Steve was the only man I'd ever had sex with. I had some offers for dates from other guys my senior year, while Steve was off at college, but I turned them down. Maybe if I had seen what some other guys were like, I wouldn't have had that tiny kernel of curiosity buried deep in my psyche. Maybe. I think another thing was the fact that I always had a vague inferiority complex, especially where Steve was concerned. Steve was always so successful, made friends so easily, and did so well in school, that I felt like I could never quite measure up to him. Let me stress that he never did anything overt to make me feel that way. He always treated me like a princess. But I was a little shy, and school work came hard for me, so much so that when we got married, I quit college and got a job at a department store to help get him through school. Until Steve accepted his promotion to his position as George's top assistant, our sex life was quite good. We'd make love several times a week, sometimes just fooling around the house, other times after going out together, which we did quite a bit. Although we were pretty active sexually, we weren't terribly adventurous, in that there were several things I wouldn't do for Steve. Looking back on it, that's one thing I truly regret about what happened, the fact that I denied my husband pleasures that I subsequently gave away to others, such as oral and anal sex. I just wouldn't do those things, because I thought they were "dirty." Pretty funny, huh? I truly believe that George set me up from the first day Steve started in his position. As executive VP, Steve reported directly to George, basically serving as his right-hand man, and George quickly set about driving a wedge between Steve and me. Steve became George's troubleshooter and chief negotiator for new contracts. In this capacity, he traveled all over the country, even overseas, to the company's various plants, and to the company's vendors and other material suppliers. When he wasn't traveling, Steve was working long hours and was bringing a lot of his work home. As a consequence, our sex life dwindled to a rarity. Either Steve was out of town, or at work, or too exhausted to do anything when he came home. Our social life together declined as well. It seemed like the only time we went out was to a work-related function, either a business dinner or employees' party of some sort. Again, I believe this was all done deliberately, so that George could have a freer chance to seduce me. By getting Steve physically out of the picture and piling on the work, George made sure that Steve didn't have the time or the energy for me, and thus I became socially and sexually frustrated. One result, too, was that I started drinking a lot heavier than I had before, and that truly was what finally lit the fuse on my downfall. I've never been able to handle liquor, and when I get drunk, I get horny and flirty. Let me tell you, George would have been hard enough to hold off for someone who was sober. When he came onto me when I was drunk – I mean really came onto me – I didn't stand a chance. I guess, at this point I should tell you about George Fazekis. Even before Steve went to work for him, I had secretly admired George as first-rate eye candy. George is easily 6-foot-4, maybe 6-5, and lean. He was a basketball star in college and he's maintained an incredible physique. He's got dark, wildly handsome looks in fitting with his Greek heritage, and a full head of curly, salt-and-pepper hair. Not only is George easy on the eyes, but he also has a very forceful personality, a terrific animal magnetism and charm oozing out of every pore. He's every woman's walking wet dream, until you get to know him and you see the real person behind his mask of charisma. Then you see the selfish user, the amoral con man and the soulless pervert that I came to know and despise. Really, George started working on me even before he promoted Steve. At parties and other company functions, he'd be sure to flatter me, and made sure I always had a fresh drink. I believe he watched me when I drank, and knew that if he could get me alone when I'd had too many that I'd be putty in his hands. About two years ago, he started suggesting that I join the health club near the company's headquarters. Memberships were free for company personnel and their families, and I began to go. At first it was only about once a week, but I soon discovered that I liked working out. Steve always said I really didn't need to lose weight or tone up my body, and he was right. As you can see, I'm pretty trim, and in very good health. But I liked the physical exercise and it gave me something to do on days when I didn't work for my friend Joyce at her flower shop, which I did on a part-time basis for a long time after we moved here. A month or so after I started going to the gym on a pretty regular basis, I ran into George, working out with the weights, and I mean he was pumping serious iron. I was impressed. I was also impressed with the bulge in his tight shorts. Remember, at that time I'd never seen another man's cock besides Steve's, and I'd always thought he was pretty big. I guess he is, compared to most men, probably carrying 7-7 1/2 inches of pretty thick meat. George isn't most men, however, and even in the soft state it would usually be in when he worked out, I could tell he was massive. And I had a natural curiosity about it. But I swear I never actively set out to have sex with George. It took a particular set of events for it to happen, events that I'm convinced George set into motion. Steve had been George's executive vice-president for right at two years, and I was getting more and more frustrated as I got less and less of my husband. Steve was always apologetic about having to make these trips and stay late at the office and bring home work, but that quickly got old. I needed a husband and our kids needed a father, and we weren't getting him. What I was getting was some serious attention from my husband's boss, and I guess I was blinded by his charm, his flattery, his magnetism, because I really didn't think anything was out of the ordinary. And neither did anyone else. George was very subtle and very careful not to be too overt about his flirting, but he was definitely flirting with me. We'd chat at the gym, and occasionally we'd have lunch together at a quiet little cafe down the street from the gym. Like I said, he was charming, and he encouraged me to have a few drinks to unwind. And I soon began to unburden myself on him, telling him of my frustrations, and hoping he could help. One thing George suggested was that we take a night and have a date, a weekend night when there was less of a chance that Steve would be called to work. He was so disingenuous when he said it, I never realized until it was too late that that was precisely what he had planned. So, on a Saturday night, Steve and I made plans to go out to dinner, and then go home and make love for the first time in about a month. But first we had a small social function at George's to attend, a cocktail party with a few of the other vice-presidents and their wives. We'd been there about an hour, I'd had three gin and tonics and we were about ready to go, when the phone rang. George took the call in his study, then came out with a long look on his face, walked right up to Steve, whispered in his ear and they both walked back into the study. They were in there for a long time, maybe 15 minutes, then they came out and Steve had a sour look on his face, and George had an apologetic look on his, a look that I soon learned was faked. "I'm sorry, honey, there's been an accident at the plant in Pittsburgh," Steve said glumly. "I have to fly out right away. George is sending me with his driver to the house to grab my case and pack a quick overnight bag, then we're going straight to the airport. I'm sorry, honey, I really am, but George says I have to go to coordinate the cleanup." "Well, shit," I said, not bothering to hide my displeasure. "Steve, when does this stop? When do I get some of you? We had plans, damn it, and now..." And I burst into tears at that point. I'd had another drink, and I was starting to feel the effects of the gin I'd consumed. I was so frustrated, so disappointed and so ... horny. Steve held me and let me cry. "Look, George said you could stay for awhile, and socialize, if you'd like," Steve said, not knowing he was unwittingly giving me a license to cheat. "No need for your night to be completely ruined. Stay for awhile, and have a good time." Then we kissed and off he went. By the time he came home, I would be an entirely different person. After Steve left, I started getting seriously drunk, something I'd become real good at. When I said earlier that I couldn't handle liquor, what I meant was I couldn't control my actions when I was drunk. As far as drinking itself goes, I could hang in there with the best of them. After a couple of hours, everyone there was starting to get pretty lit, and I knew I should leave pretty soon, before I got completely incapacitated and did something I'd regret. But just then George suggested that we all take a dip in his Jacuzzi, which is located in a cabana off behind the patio. I protested that I didn't have a suit, but George said not to worry, they always kept spares around for guests to use. He smiled benignly as he handed me a one-piece suit of a very light material. When I took my clothes off in the dressing room along with some of the other women, I felt a little flutter in my stomach like I had an inkling of what was going to happen. Some of the other wives were talking about their husbands and what they planned to do when they got home, and it depressed me – and also turned me on. I'd had my heart, and my body, set on getting some loving that night, I was more than a little upset that Steve had left me in the lurch like that, and I was still needy. The suit George had given me didn't help. Yes, it was a one-piece, but it was about as sexy a one-piece as you'll find. It was made of a light, gauzy material that accented all of my curves, and it was cut high on my hips and low on my breasts, leaving a significant portion of my butt and my tits exposed. And I'm a healthy 36-23-36, with C cups, so I had some flesh showing. When I stepped out of the dressing room, George and a few of the other men whistled in appreciation. I was a little embarrassed, but also thrilled. It had been a long time since Steve had reacted to me that way. George had thoughtfully stocked the little bar at the cabana, so that we didn't have to go far to replenish our drinks, which continued to flow freely. And when George stepped out of the hot tub to fix me another drink, it was the ladies' turn to be impressed, for he had on a tight pair of Speedos that did very little to hide his massive cock, and left a good portion of his taut butt exposed. Even the men got in the act. "Man, if I was queer, I'd be all over that," I heard one man say, to the roar of the rest of the group. I laughed, too, but my insides were churning. George's cock had me mesmerized, and my pussy was getting hot at the thought of what it could do to me. Every time I did, I kept trying to remind myself that I was a happily married woman, but the longer I stayed and the more I drank, the more I just didn't care. As I relaxed, George and I engaged in an animated conversation, and sometimes I just lay back in the tub and closed my eyes, wallowing in self-pity. Eventually, the other couples drifted off to home, leaving George and I alone in cabana. After seeing the last of his other guests off, George came back in and sat down next to me on the edge of the tub. I was drunk enough to be slurring my words, but not so drunk that I wasn't completely aware that George was making a pass at me. "You know, I've always thought you were very sexy," George said in a seductive tone of voice. "Oh, I'll bet you tell all of your girlfriends that," I said, laughing nervously. I said it flippantly, not realizing that he did, in fact, have other girlfriends. "No, really, Steve must be a lucky man to have a wife as lovely as you," he said. "Yeah, well it would be nice if he'd pay some attention to me once in a while," I said, a trifle bitterly, before draining my glass. "Man shouldn't neglect his most prized possession," he whispered, and that's when I noticed George had put his arm around me and was lightly stroking my bare arm. "George, please, I'm married," I said unconvincingly as I tried to remove his arm. "And so are you." "I've never let that stand in the way of doing something I like," he said softly, as his arm reached back around my side and his fingers caressed the exposed side of my right breast. "And I'd like very much to make love with you. Let me take away all of your frustrations." "George, I can't," I said, weakly. "What about Steve?" "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, will it?" George said. "You know you want to." I was fighting a losing battle, because I could feel my pussy getting wet from the tactile sensations his hands were causing. He had turned toward me and his left hand was lightly tracing circles up my thigh, making me shiver with delight. When he brought his lips to mine and kissed me, I was all but in the bag. He kissed me lightly at first, then with a little more force, as his tongue entered my mouth, which opened wider and wider the longer we kissed. And as we kissed, I felt George's fingers slide inside the crotch of my suit and slip into my dripping wet cunt, while the fingers of his other hand slipped inside the top of my suit and begin to lightly stroke my nipple. When we finally came up for air, I happened to glance down and saw a truly awesome sight. George's cock looked like some kind of massive snake under his trunks, and I think I gasped when I saw it. "See what you've done to me?" he whispered. "You've made it this way. Go on; touch it. I know how all of those times at the gym, you've been dying to see it, to feel it. Well, here's your chance." Hesitantly, I reached over and placed my hand over its long, fat length. It pulsed with life and I slowly ran my hand over his iron hardness, still covered – barely – by the shiny material of his suit, and we kissed again, harder and with more urgency. At that moment, all thoughts of husband and family were washed away by my drunken lust. I had just about surrendered. When we broke again, I didn't hesitate. I flipped his suit down, and out sprang the biggest cock you can imagine. It was easily 10 inches and fat, a truly awesome piece of manhood. I felt a trickle of intense arousal – and not a little bit of fear – at the thought that he intended to put that thing in my pussy. I stroked him up and down and stared at the little ball of pre-cum that oozed out the tip. I swirled the clear fluid all over the head as we met for yet another hot, horny kiss. Our hands were working briskly on each other's body, me stroking his magnificent cock and him fingering my pussy and stroking my tit. Marriage On The Rocks "Don't you want to kiss it?" George whispered. And, God help me, I did. I crawled over his right leg into the Jacuzzi and brought the bulbous head of George's cock to my lips. My tongue flicked out and lapped up a bit of fluid, and I rolled it around in my mouth before pursing my lips over the head. I kissed the head gently, and slowly, ever so slowly, the head of his cock slid past my lips. I let about half of his cock enter my mouth before he hit the entrance to my throat, and I began to work my lips up and down, like the books and magazines I'd read instructed. It was a watershed moment. I had never before taken Steve's cock in my mouth, claiming it was too dirty for me to do. But here I was eagerly sucking his boss's huge cock. I think George and I both understood in that moment that he had taken possession of me, that he could do whatever he wanted with me. "I'll bet you don't suck your husband this way, do you," George said. I just shook my head as I worked my mouth up and down on his cock with increasing skill and vigor. I sucked on his cock for several minutes, feeling the intense feelings of arousal swell in my groin. I'd been sitting on a slow burn most of the night, and George's fingers had stoked that fire to a fever pitch. I pulled my mouth off his cock, took it in both hands and looked up at George with an almost reverential look. "Please, put it in me," I panted. "Fuck me, George, I need it." George pulled me up out of the hot tub and laid me back on the tiled floor. He pulled the crotch of my suit to one side, and ran his fingers up and down my drooling slit. I could never remember being this horny. George grasped his huge cock in his fist and brought the head to my opening. He slowly stroked his cock up and down my furrow, as I groaned in lust and need. Slowly, George pushed forward, and the fat head of his cock slid inside my cunt. As his crown passed over my clit on its way into my pussy, I felt sparks of sensation wash through my body. Yes, it hurt some, sort of like giving birth in reverse, but as he fed more of his incredible cock into my steaming box, the more accustomed to his girth I became, and the hotter and more frantic I got. When he had all but the last couple of inches in, he stopped, and I realized that he was invading territory Steve had never entered. In my demented lust, I got a thrill out of that thought. Later, I would rue that thought, along with a lot of other things, but at that moment, all I cared about was my runaway passion. Suddenly, George pushed the rest of his cock in, and I felt his sparse pubic hair mesh with mine. And that's when I went wild. I could feel that long-awaited climax starting to quicken as he pulled back and began to fuck me with short, stabbing strokes. I wrapped my arms and legs around his muscular physique and gave myself to him, humping up and down with my hips as his cock did things to my pussy I had never dreamed a cock could do. At that moment, I threw my head back and screamed as my orgasm exploded through my body. I twitched and moaned, shook and cried. It was nothing like any orgasm I'd ever had with Steve. It consumed me, and instead of coming and going the way they usually did, I just kept rocking on my high, as George began to fuck me with harder and faster thrusts. His hands clutched my breasts, which he had long since flipped out of their confines, and squeezed my rock-hard nipples. I gasped and grunted hard with each inward push of his iron-hard rod in my sloppy cunt. As he began to fuck me with more purpose, George picked my legs up over his broad shoulders, got up on his knees and leaned forward until I was bent almost in half, my butt completely off the tile. In this position, I couldn't do anything but let him ram his massive dick back and forth in my gushing cunt, and at that moment, that's all I wanted. My mind was a black hole of lustful sensations as a true sexual delirium descended over me. It seemed like from far away that I heard George pant and groan as his cock took on the nature of a jackhammer. Suddenly with a choking gasp, George thrust forward all the way and I felt a gusher of cum explode out the end of his cock. It felt like a water hose had been stuck up my pussy as he filled me with his scalding-hot cream, and I cried out right along with him as my orgasm peaked. My body shimmied in lust as he emptied himself in me. For long moments, we remained motionless, almost stunned by the intensity of what had happened. My breathing finally returned to normal as George finally let my legs down and pulled back. It seemed like it took forever for his still-huge cock to ooze out of my distended pussy. And when it finally was all out, a river of molten cum flowed out behind it. George leaned back, dipped a finger in my pussy and brought a wad of cum up to my lips. I licked his finger clean, then he stood up and flipped his cock back into his suit. I just lay on the tile, wallowing in the effects of the most intense climax I'd ever experienced. Here's how depraved I was in that moment. I reached down with my own hand and began scooping cum out of my cunt and bringing my gooey fingers to my lips. I wanted to taste George's cum, to get everything I could out of this incredible hunk of man. "Looks like you want some more," George said. "Well, once is about all I can muster without a lengthy rest. I'm not as young as I used to be. But we'll do this again. I don't think you've gotten all you want of me, have you." I just nodded numbly. I'm ashamed to say that I had thoroughly enjoyed what I had done, and, yes, I wanted more. George had found that buried well of unbridled lust that I think I'd always had, just waiting for the right man to tap into, and it was pretty clear to me right about then that Steve hadn't been that man. When I finally had as much of George's cum as I was going to get out of my red and sore pussy, I sighed, replaced the suit over my exposed parts and accepted George's hand to climb out of the Jacuzzi. I was officially an adulteress, and at that moment I didn't care. Remorse did set in, however, after I got home, when I'd sobered up some. I lay awake in bed – in my and my husband's bed – thought about what I'd done, and cried myself to sleep. I told myself it wouldn't happen again, that it was a one-time thing that happened because I was drunk, but I was kidding myself. George had done things to me that I'd never had done to me before, brought me more sexual pleasure than I'd ever experienced in my life, and I knew I wasn't going to stop at just one time. Having tasted the forbidden fruit and found it delicious, I knew deep inside that I was going to want more. Still, I made an effort, when Steve came home, to assuage my guilt by taking him to bed. I wanted him, needed him to make love to me, to reaffirm my commitment to him. But while it was affectionate and loving at the start, once Steve got his cock in me, I found myself thinking, "is that it?" Bless his heart, he was trying so hard, and all I could think about were George and his monster cock, and how my husband wasn't pleasing me the way George had. I feel awful about admitting that, but it was true. And I didn't climax while Steve was fucking me. Of course, the next week, when Steve was sent out of town on business, George called me and I met him at the apartment he kept in the city for his liaisons. This time, he really took his time. First, he ate my pussy through three orgasms, something else I hadn't let Steve do, then George slid his cock smoothly in my eager pussy and fucked me through at least four more. I was limp and exhausted when we finished. Over the next few weeks, I met George whenever Steve left town. God, I was pathetic the way I acted. When George called for me, it didn't matter what I was doing; I dropped it and ran to him. I couldn't get enough of his long, fat cock and his oh so sexy lovemaking. I did whatever he asked me to do, any time he wanted. Sometimes we did it at George's apartment, sometimes he came to our house and we did it in my bed, and sometimes we did it in the massage room at the gym. Sometimes, I'd have several drinks beforehand; sometimes I would be stone sober. It didn't matter. I'd fuck George anywhere he wanted, under any conditions, just to have his cock in me. And as the weeks went by, I found myself wanting to give him the only thing I hadn't given him, my virgin ass. Typically, he was very subtle about building the desire in me for anal sex. It started when he would use his mouth on my pussy, and venture between my butt cheeks. The first time, I tried to push him away, but he eventually went back to it, and licked and kissed by brown bud. Instead of being repulsed by this act, I found it felt good, very sensual. Soon, he was adding a finger, then two. Sometimes, it would be when he was eating me, other times when he was fucking me doggy-style, which I had quickly come to appreciate for the way he got his beautiful cock deeper in my pussy, if that was possible. About six or seven weeks after we'd started our affair, George gave me a present. It was a 7-inch rubber dildo. At first I was taken aback, but he said it was for when we couldn't be together. He didn't come right out and say it, but I'm sure he gave it to me for me to practice on my ass, and to get my backside open to penetration. Sure enough, the first time I had a chance to use it, I fucked my pussy with it, then felt a tingling in my ass, like I wanted to play with my anus. I worked a couple of lubricated fingers in my ass, then slid the rubber dong out of my cunt and pressed it to my asshole. At first I had trouble, but when I finally learned to relax and just let it push slowly in, the head finally popped past my anal ring and into my rectum. I couldn't believe the sparks of sensation that billowed through me as I felt my ass being penetrated for the first time. And when I orgasmed from the effects of fucking my ass with the dildo, I knew I wanted more. I knew I wanted to try to take George's cock back there. It proved to be tough, but I did it. George's birthday came about two months into our relationship, and I promised him a surprise for his birthday present. We met at his apartment, quickly got naked and jumped in his bed. We moved around into a 69 position, with me on top. I was sucking and slobbering all over his iron-hard cock, while he was using his lips, tongue and fingers on my boiling pussy and red-hot ass. When I felt like I was at the point of explosion, I pulled my pussy off his face and crawled down the bed, so that I was straddling his hips. I was feeling especially lewd that night, knowing I was about to break a personal barrier. When I was poised on my knees, I produced the bottle of oil that I'd slipped under the covers earlier, and poured a liberal amount between the crack of my ass. I looked back with a wanton look as George stared at me while I massaged the oil over my anus, then penetrated my asshole with first one, then two fingers, getting the lube all up inside me. After getting nice and slick inside and out, I held up George's cock with one hand, raised up slightly and pressed my ass on the fat head of his dick. As I strummed my throbbing, bloated clit, I eased myself down onto his cock until, suddenly, the head popped past my sphincter. I howled as I felt like I was being impaled on a log. I squeezed my eyes shut and panted like a dog in heat as I held just the head inside my ass. All the while George was talking to me softly, sexily, telling me just to relax, relax, that once I adjusted to his size, it would feel like nothing I'd ever felt. And he was right. Just as he did when he first got his cock in my pussy, George's cock slowly entered my ass, inch by agonizing inch, and the more cock I got in me, the better it felt. By the time I had two-thirds of him in my ass, I was squirming like a bug in a frying pan, as my climax hit the brink. Slowly, I started working myself up and down, as I worked my fingers in my gushing pussy. With each downward push, I took more and more of his cock, until I felt his pubic hairs tickling my butt cheeks. God, I couldn't believe how good it felt! I had always resisted any urge to engage in anything remotely associated with anal sex, because I thought it would be dirty, painful and degrading, and Steve had never asked for it. But now I realized that this was sex at its most primordial, the ultimate gift to a man, and I quickly dissolved in a crushing orgasm. I shuddered from the top of my head to the tip of my toes as the climax washed through me. Harder and faster, I rode George's cock in my ass, and he placed his big hands on my hips to work me up and down on his pulsing rod. My hand was covered in my cunt juice as I roared with another orgasm and another one on top of that. I gasped, I squealed, I groaned and I grunted from the powerful thrusts of his huge cock in my distended ass. I could feel George's cock beginning to twitch as he slammed my hips down onto his. I could feel a white-hot flash of sensation as his cock swelled, then exploded in a series of steaming-hot bursts of cum deep in my bowels. I leaned back onto his chest as he cupped and squeezed my heaving tits while we enjoyed the tremendous mutual climax. Having used all of my holes, George owned me mind, body and soul, and that was when his true nature began to surface. I honestly thought we had mutual feelings for each other. But one night when Steve was gone, and George hadn't called to meet me, I figured I'd just go into the city anyway to get what I'd come to need. Was I pitiful, or what? I got to George's apartment, rang the doorbell, and waited. I knew he was there, because I'd seen his car parked in the private lot, so I rang again. When he finally opened the door, he was clad only in a towel, looking disheveled and very angry. And I quickly learned why. He was entertaining some young woman, who had poked her head out of the bedroom to see what the commotion was about. I, too, was angry, because I thought he was "cheating" on me. What a laugh, huh? Me, the cheating wife, pissed because my boyfriend had another woman on the side besides me. When I said I thought we had something special, he just sneered at me. "All we have is that you're a good, easy fuck," George said. "You think you're the only woman who wants a taste of George's prime meat? You flatter yourself." That should have been my cue to cut my losses and run, but it was already too late. I was in too deep, and I found that out the next time I saw George, about a week later. This time, he wasn't as loving as before, although he did apologize for not telling me he had other girlfriends. But when we got into the bed, he wasn't as gentle as he had been before, fucking me roughly, both in my pussy and in my ass. I came a couple of times, but not like I had. This pattern repeated itself the next two times we met, and I had about decided that the relationship had run its course. I had begun to return my attention to Steve, trying much harder than before to please him, taking time to fuck him, no matter the time, whether he was tired or not, or whether I got an orgasm out of it or not. I wanted to restore what I'd been missing with my husband, and I was willing to sacrifice my selfish pleasures to do it. But it was not to be. I guess it was about four months after that first time with George when I got a call from him, asking me to meet him at his apartment. I tried to say no, I really did, but George was insistent and persuasive. "Now, honey, you know you're not getting what you need at home," he said smoothly, and he was right. Steve had been gone to Asia for over a week already, and would be gone another 10 days. I'd been climbing the walls in frustration, but I'd managed to avoid the temptation to call George. "I'll tell you what," he said finally. "Why don't you come over, we'll have a few drinks and have one more go for posterity. Then you can go back to your boring little life with your boring little husband." If I'd been a little more street-smart I'd have smelled a trap, but I was naive – and horny – so I finally said I'd go for one last spin around the block, so to speak. It was cold, the first of December, so I dressed in a sweater and jeans, and drove to George's apartment. As soon as I entered the main room and George shut the door, I knew I'd been had. For sitting on the sofa was a fairly tall, distinguished-looking man with blond hair who looked to be in his mid-30s, and sitting on the chair across from him was another man, a balding heavy-set fellow in his 40s. They raised their drinks to me and gave me a very wolfish look that sent a chill down my spine. I turned to George, who had positioned himself between me and the door, blocking any possible escape. "Charles, please fix the little lady a drink, gin and tonic, while we chat," George said to the younger man. The other man also got up to fix himself another drink, leaving us alone in the room. "George, what is this? Who are these guys?" I said with a desperate tone in my voice. The look he gave me in that moment was cruel and triumphant. "The younger fellow is Charles, one of our major stockholders, and the older gent is Leo, a client of ours from England," George said. "They're in from out of town and looking for some cheap entertainment. I told them you're about as entertaining as they come, and cheap to boot." "Fuck you, George," I spat. His words had stung me to the core, and I was angry. "I'm not some cheap slut you can pass around to your friends for their entertainment." "Oh, but you are," he said. "You're just another cheap whore who comes running any time George calls. You can't get enough of my big, fat cock, and soon you won't be able to get enough of my friends' cocks, either." "No way," I said defiantly and started for the door. "No way I'm doing this. I made a huge mistake getting involved with you, and now I'm going home." "No, you're not," he said, putting his hand on my chest to stop me. "Not if you know what's good for you and your family. Tell me something. Do you like your nice, big suburban house, your nice car, and the ability to not have to work unless you want to? Do you like having a husband who makes a six-figure salary and kids at home? Do you like your comfortable life, Teresa?" I just nodded dumbly, because I had an idea of where this conversation was leading. "Well, I can take it all away from you, right now," George said. Just then, Charles returned with my drink, and after he handed it to me, he brushed his hand over my jean-clad ass, then grinned lasciviously as he walked back into the kitchen. I took a big gulp while George continued his spiel. "This is how it's going to be from now on," he said. "You are going to be my whore. You are going to do whatever I tell you to do, whenever I tell you to do it. I always need an available woman to entertain my friends and my guests, and you're going to be that woman. Any refusal to do whatever I want, and I'll ruin you and your family. Steve Dawson works at my pleasure, and I can fire him tomorrow, for any reason I so desire. Defy me, and I'll can his ass, then I'll tell him exactly why he's out. I'll tell him that his pretty little wife has been my slut for the past few months, but that she defied me so I'm taking it out on him. Then you'll be out on the street, no husband, no house and no income. You'll be peddling that sweet ass of yours just to get money to eat on. And your hubby will be reduced to working for Wal-Mart, assuming he can even get a job there." "But, but, Steve's worked his ass off for you," I cried. I think my face was white as a ghost. "He's gone anywhere you've told him to go, done more than what the job required, done everything he can to make money for your company. You can't just fire him because of me." Marriage On The Rocks "I can, and I will," George said. "It's a cold, hard world out there, sweetie, and with the economy the way it is, I don't really need a good reason to let him go. I can just announce that we're cutting back our work force. If you don't cooperate, I'll fire him and a hundred others along with him, just to make it look good." "You wouldn't," I whispered. That was what finally got to me. Firing Steve was one thing, but firing a hundred other perfectly innocent employees was quite another. I didn't want that on my conscience. "Oh, but I would, and I will," he said softly, as he walked up to me and squeezed one of my breasts. "You are really a bastard, aren't you," I said, still incredulous over this turn of events. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to make you want to hurt me like this?" "Oh, it's not about you, Teresa," George said. "You're just a convenient object. It's all about power. I have the power over you and your family, to make you do anything I want, and I feed off that. Power is the world's greatest aphrodisiac, and it's what drives me. Plus you're a good piece of ass." "You are a really sick man," I whispered, finally. He just laughed and guided me over to the sofa, next to Charles. I should have called his bluff, and seen what he would do, but the truth was, I was still horny, and group scenes had intrigued me for quite awhile. And, of course, I didn't know what I would do if George followed through on his threats. Maybe I was making an excuse, but I rationalized that my choice had been made for me, so I sat on the sofa in resignation and set about getting seriously drunk. An hour, and five drinks later, I was feeling no pain. Charles and I were necking furiously, our tongues battling like swordsmen. My jeans were unbuttoned and he had his left hand in my panties alternately working my clit with his middle finger and slipping two fingers in my juicy cunt. On my right side, Leo had a hand under my sweater and was squeezing my right breast, which he had flipped out of the cup of my bra. My hands were caressing the hard cocks of the two men on either side of me, getting them ready. I could feel the spasms of lust boiling in my groin, and I knew I was in for a night of fucking I would never forget. George had been watching from across the room, and he finally ordered me to stand up and take off my clothes. I did as I was told, and quickly stood naked in front of these two men who had been strangers an hour earlier. They both stood up and quickly divested themselves of their clothes then pressed their naked bodies close to mine, where I could stroke their rock-hard cocks. Charles was quite a specimen, a scaled-down version of George. He was a couple of inches over six feet tall, lean and muscular, with a cock in the 8-inch range. Leo was shorter and softer, but he still had a pretty impressive piece of meat swinging between his legs, probably seven inches, but very fat. I didn't have to be told what to do. Heaven help me, I wanted to suck these two cocks, and I did. I dropped onto my knees and slid Charles' cock right in my mouth, no muss, no fuss. I took all but about an inch in my mouth and worked his stiff rod back and forth, as my tongue rolled around the shaft. After a few minutes, I felt a gentle tug on my head, as Leo turned me toward him. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and slipped his fat dong into my mouth, getting him in as far as the entrance to my throat, but that was it. Nevertheless, I worked what I had vigorously in my mouth, as sloppy sucking sounds escaped my mouth, and a stream of drool dribbled down my chin. At the same time, I could feel the moisture trickling out of my steaming hot pussy from the anticipation of fulfilling one of the wildest fantasies I could ever have imagined. As my mouth was pulled off Leo's cock, I looked through lust-glazed eyes at George, who was in the process of removing his clothes. Our eyes met, and I saw a look of complete victory in his, and I'm sure he saw a look of complete submission in mine. I had accepted my new role as his slut, whether I liked it or not. Charles maneuvered me to the overstuffed chair that sat in one corner of the room, laid me on my back, raised and opened my legs wide and buried his face in my pussy. His tongue strummed my clit, penetrated my wet lips, slid down and poked at my asshole, then came back and did it all over again, until I was writhing in ecstasy on the chair. As his long, practiced tongue worked me over, I felt a massive climax explode in my groin, and I shivered and cried loudly as the orgasm swept me away. When I came back to earth, Charles had pulled his face away and was lining his cock up with my cunt. I reached down and opened myself up, and begged him to fuck me, for all of them to fuck me and to fuck me hard. I was out of my mind with lust in that moment and I didn't care about anything but getting as much cock as I could get my pussy wrapped around. Charles' cock slid smoothly up my flooded canal in one screaming thrust, and he quickly got into a brisk, steady rhythm. I sensed, more than saw, the other two men sidle up on either side of me, their fleshy poles at face level. I grabbed them in each hand, George on my right and Leo on my left, and began to stroke them in time with Charles' thrusts. George turned my head to the right, and I eagerly sucked the head of his cock into my mouth and began to work as much as I could back and forth. Then it was Leo's turn, and I took him in as far as I could. All the while, I was humping my hips up to meet Charles' powerful inward thrusts. Apparently, it had been awhile since he'd last had an orgasm, because he began to pump me extra-hard, and with a grunt, filled my pussy with a huge load of cum, so much cum that it oozed out from his pistoning cock. I was climbing toward another climax, but I wasn't quite there yet. However, as Charles withdrew his cock, and I felt his cum run out my cunt and over my asshole, I could feel my arousal beginning to spike. And when Leo pushed the fat head of his cock past my open labia, and brushed my clit on his way in, I exploded again with another white-hot orgasm. His fat cock felt like it was really stretching me open, rather like George's had that first time in his Jacuzzi. He filled me up, though not nearly as deeply as George, and he quickly began fucking me hard. I was right there with him, urging him on in my delirium. "My God, George, you... were right... about her," Leo said, panting as he fucked me with hard strokes. "She's... about as hot... as anything I've... seen in ... a lonnng timmme." Then all he could get out were pants, grunts and groans as he worked himself into a frenzy. It didn't take much of this before he spewed a hard, rocky load deep in my cunt, adding his creamy cum to whatever Charles had left in me. George had stepped aside when Leo took over, to give his overseas guest a chance at me alone, and now it was his turn. As cum poured out of my distended cunt, George hauled my legs onto his shoulders, bent me so that my ankles were over my head, and pushed his incredible cock up my pussy in one long, sweet plunge. I howled in passion as George's cock sent me into the stratosphere. My body went into overdrive, twitching and shivering from a succession of mini-climaxes that swelled through my body, mounting into a full-body, rip-roaring orgasm, as he pounded my pussy with long, hard strokes. He fucked me for what seemed like forever, then pulled out without coming. I was a limp, fucked-out shell by then, but I was only half-done. Watching George fuck me relentlessly had gotten Charles and Leo up to something approaching full roar. George got me onto my knees on the floor in the middle of the room, then slid his cock back into my pussy from behind and resumed a leisurely pace. Immediately, he slid two fingers in my cum-covered ass and began to work the slimy cream into my butthole. I groaned in response to his fingers working in tandem with his cock in my cunt. I could feel my tits wobbling on my chest as George fucked me to oblivion. Charles and Leo came to stand in front of me and I eagerly took a cock in each hand and began to work my mouth over them, first one, then the other, and back and forth. I could taste my juice still lingering on their hard shafts, and that gave me an extra jolt of lust. When George felt like my ass had been cored open with his fingers enough, he pulled his cock out and sort of pushed me forward. Somehow, I knew what was coming when Charles lay down on his back in front of me. George told me to straddle Charles' hips and climb on the cock he was aiming at the ceiling. I did as I was told, and quickly felt Charles' long poker up my well-fucked pussy. As I rode Charles' cock, I could feel my butt cheeks being opened then the fat head of Leo's cock at my rear entrance. I squeezed my eyes shut as Charles held my pussy fully impaled on his cock. I could feel Leo pushing, pushing, pushing, until suddenly his cock popped past my sphincter and he slid into my ass. I screamed in a combination of pain and lust, and my eyes got wide as saucers from the unbelievable feeling of having a cock in my pussy and my ass at the same time. Two sets of hands caressed my body as they began to work me on the twin spears that were skewering my hot, horny holes. As they picked up speed and got into a rhythm, I could feel huge sparks of lust crackle through my body, and I began to cum like I'd never cum before, not even with George. I worked myself around the two cocks in my body like a madwoman, screaming and moaning, gasping and crying. I looked up to see George looking down at me with an intense look of lust and command, and I took his cock in my hand and literally stuffed in my mouth. I slobbered and slurped at his huge cock like it was my last meal, working my mouth in a frenzy for cock. I wallowed in the sensation of having all three of my holes filled at once, and I could tell that the three men who had their cocks in those holes were getting into it as well. I vaguely heard them calling me slutty names, but at that point, I really didn't care what they said about me as long as they kept fucking me. As my series of orgasms began to reach a peak, I could feel Charles and Leo beginning to fuck me harder, until I heard them gasp loudly. I felt their cocks swell to a seemingly-impossible size, then explode their hot, wet cum in my spastic holes. As I shuddered from my orgasm, George ripped his cock out of my mouth, and I suddenly felt him shoot at least a half-dozen terrific cumshots across my face. He shot cum everywhere, over both eyes, my lips, my hair, my ear, then he stuck his cock back in my mouth and made me suck the last few oozing drops onto my tongue, which I swallowed eagerly. I think I twitched for several minutes as my orgasm ran its course, until I finally slumped onto Charles' chest, utterly drained. They finally pulled away, leaving me lying on the floor, in a sweaty, cum-soaked heap. I cleaned the semen off my face as best I could, then George helped me get dressed and out the door. When I got to my car, and got inside, the enormity of the fix I was in hit me then, and I burst into tears and cried all the way home. That was the beginning of eight months of absolute sexual insanity, magnified by an alcoholic haze. It was hell in some ways, but I'd be lying to you if I said it was a continuous nightmare. In that time, I got more cock than most women see in a lifetime, and experienced some of the most incredible orgasmic highs a woman can possibly enjoy. I fell quite easily into a world of hardcore sex I could have scarcely dreamed of just six month earlier. When Steve was out of town on business, I was out most nights at parties that George would arrange. I'd get screaming drunk, then it was nothing for me to take on 10, 15, 20 men at a time. Even when he was home, I'd often be called out during the day, to some hotel, to fuck some client or stockholder. I guess I was lucky in one respect. None of the men I fucked had any STDs, and none of them were into anything particularly kinky. They just liked to fuck, a lot. I'm really not sure how Steve finally caught on to what was going on. Based on the evidence he threw in my face, I'd say George foolishly made a video of one of our many orgies, someone got their hands on a copy of it and passed it along to Steve. He apparently then hired an investigator who followed me around for a couple of weeks. I guess. It really doesn't matter. What I do know is that the night of my birthday – how's that for irony – was the night my world collapsed in a big messy heap. It was on a Friday night last August. Steve had, typically, been gone the entire week, and, typically, I'd spent a lot of that time entertaining George and his friends. That morning, I got a call from Steve, asking me if I'd like to have a romantic dinner together that night, just the two of us. He said he would be flying in late that afternoon, and he'd just drive directly to the restaurant after a brief stop at the office. Of course, I said yes. Such occasions had become all too rare over the previous three years, and I was looking forward to it. He told me to get our friend Debbie Slater to keep the kids overnight and to meet him at a downtown restaurant at 8 o'clock. I was nervous and excited as I prepared for the night. I wore my nicest party dress, a red mini-skirt with spaghetti straps, heels, garter belt and skimpy panties. I really wanted to feel sexy for my husband. Strange as it may sound, by then I had managed in my mind to detach my married sex life from my illicit sex life with George. It's like I had two different personalities, and in my mind I thought of myself as two different people. I know; it's delusional, but that's what happens when sex and alcohol begin to rule your life. I took the kids to Debbie's that afternoon, then got ready. I had two drinks before I left, just to calm my nerves, and two before dinner. I guess if I hadn't been a little intoxicated - both by liquor and lust - I'd have caught the warning signs that night. Steve seemed distant, preoccupied, like he had something on his mind, and once I caught him staring at me with a sad look on his face. I had two more drinks with dinner and played footsie with Steve under the table. I didn't feel drunk as we left the restaurant. Six drinks in a four-hour span weren't usually enough to give me more than a nice little buzz. But it was enough, according to the state. As we walked out of the restaurant, my mind was awhirl with anticipation of getting Steve in a loving embrace. That had become by operating procedure when he came home. I'd try to fuck him to death to ease my own guilt. When we reached my car, we kissed, and Steve seemed to hold it an extra-second longer than usual, I guess because he knew it was likely to be our last as husband and wife. Then we parted and I told him to drive carefully. I'm pretty sure now that Steve must have alerted the police, because of some things that he wrote in a final note to me. Regardless, I had no more gotten up on the expressway headed for home when I saw blue lights in my rearview mirror. I popped a breath mint in my mouth just to be careful, but I really wasn't worried. I'd driven when I was in much worse condition, and I was honest when the officer asked me if I'd been drinking. But when he asked me to step out of the car, I sensed trouble. They gave me a field sobriety test, which I thought I passed, but when I blew into the Breathalyzer, it came up .12, legally drunk. I begged them to let me go, that it was my birthday and that I needed to be home with my husband. But my pleas fell on deaf ears; I was handcuffed, put in the back of the patrol car and hauled off to the city lockup. It was the start of the longest 24 hours of my life. First, I was booked, including fingerprinting, then I was given a chance to call someone. Of course, I called for Steve at the house, but got no answer, so I tried his cell phone. Same thing. That worried me, but I hadn't yet put it together with my situation with George. I was then ushered into a room with a jail matron and told to strip. She leered at me when she saw I wasn't wearing a bra, did a strip search that included her sliding her fingers up my pussy and my ass, to my utter mortification. Then I was told to put on the standard orange jumpsuit, with the matching slippers, and escorted to a cell, which I ended up sharing with three other women. One was another DUI case, and the other two had been hauled in for soliciting. The other DUI was staggering drunk, and she climbed up on the top bunk opposite me and immediately passed out. The two hookers seemed to be off in their own little world, so for the most part I was left alone. Honestly, I don't know how people stay sane in prison. Throughout my one night in jail there was continuous yelling and conversation by jailers outside and the constant clang of iron doors opening to the accompaniment of a loud buzzer – every time – and clanging shut loudly. Around 7 o'clock, I guess, they came around with breakfast, and I was allowed to try calling Steve again. I thought surely he'd answer, but the phone at the house just rang and rang, which I thought was odd, because usually the answering machine picks up after six rings. Something was wrong, but I still thought it maybe had something to do with Steve being in trouble. Eventually, my three cellmates bonded out, and I was left alone, at least for awhile. Then they brought in a girl who had been wandering down the middle of the expressway high as a kite on something. She just ran on talking to herself until I finally snapped at her to, "shut the fuck up!" As I sat there with nothing to do but think, I began to wonder about Steve. Where was he? Had something happened to him? One of the kids? Surely, he'd check the jail when I didn't come home. Why didn't he come for me? And slowly a gnawing feeling started to grow in my stomach, and it worsened when I called Debbie Slater, after I had once again failed to reach Steve, later that afternoon. By then, I was desperate. I did not want to spend another night in jail, but unless somebody came to bail me out, that's what would happen. I went stone-cold when Debbie told me that Steve had come by to pick the kids up right on schedule, about 10 a.m., and that he had seemed normal, almost cheerful. She said he'd told her we had a wonderful evening. "Teresa, where are you?" Debbie said, when I didn't answer. "I can't say right now," I said, trying hard to fight back tears. "Debbie, can you do me a favor and look up the number for Joyce Millsap?" Debbie gave it to me, and I hung up, then called my old boss. Technically, they weren't supposed to let me make a second call, but the guy running the booking desk was sympathetic and let me call Joyce. I had worked for Joyce at her flower shop before my relationship with George began to occupy too much of my time. Even though it had been months since I'd worked for her, we'd stayed in touch, and I'd seen her just the previous week. That would prove to be a providential encounter, although I hadn't thought of it that way at the time. It had been late in the afternoon in the lobby of a downtown hotel, and I was three-quarters drunk and full of cum from a tryst with three of George's clients. I think she sensed that things weren't right with me, because as we began to part, she held my hand and told me that if I needed anything, any help of any kind to call on her, that she'd be there for me. And the moment I heard her voice on the phone that day, I lost it. "Joyce, please help me," I blubbered. Marriage On The Rocks That was all it took. After I told her my predicament, she calmed me down, reassured me and told me she'd be down to bail me out as soon as she could get downtown. It was a little past 7 o'clock, and the sun was hanging low in the sky when I finally got out of the jail. I didn't even bother putting my heels back on, but just walked out of there barefoot. I was dirty, exhausted and depressed. And I was mad at Steve for leaving me in that jail for as long as he did, but I wasn't ready for a confrontation. At that point, all I wanted was to go home, take a shower and crawl in bed. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. The first substantive clue to what lay ahead came when we stopped at an ATM. I wanted to go ahead and pay Joyce back the $200 it took to bail me out, but the machine wouldn't accept my card. Again, there was that gnawing in my stomach, but Joyce just nodded like she understood what was up. The sun had gone down when we finally arrived back at the house. It was dark and the house appeared deserted. Steve's car was gone, and all the lights in the house were out, except for the front porch light. I thanked Joyce for helping me, got out and walked up to the front door. I thought it strange that she made no move to leave. I was glad she did, because when I put the key in the door, it didn't work. And that's when I really knew. Apparently, while I was languishing in jail, Steve had had the locks changed, and there could only be one reason for him to do that. He was kicking me out of the house because he'd learned about my relationship with George. I just collapsed in a teary heap on the porch, and Joyce came out to hold me while I cried. As we sat on the porch, we both noticed the manila envelope that sat on the porch swing, but we ignored it while Joyce got me under control. It wasn't easy. I honestly believe that Joyce saved my life that night, because if I'd been left alone I probably would have done myself bodily harm. As far as was concerned, my life was over, and it wasn't worth it to go on living. I had thrown away a good life with a good man and good children, and for what? Drunkenness and debauchery. Joyce got me calmed down – again – got me to my feet, gathered up the envelope and walked me back to her car. "Come on, you can stay with me until you get on your feet," she said. At the time, I didn't know a lot about her personal life. I knew she'd been divorced for almost 10 years and shared a nice house with another woman. But I didn't think she was a lesbian, because she went out on dates with men all the time, and, as it turns out, she's not. When I got to her house, I was as low as a person could go. I'd reached my bottom. As far as I knew, I had no possessions but the dress I was wearing, the panties underneath it and the stuff I was carrying – my shoes and stockings. I had about $40 in cash on me, a checkbook and a handful of credit cards that I strongly suspected were worthless. Joyce and I are about the same size, so she let me borrow some clean underwear and some clothes, after I took a shower. I confess that if she hadn't stood there in the bathroom watching while I showered, I'd have probably pilfered her medicine cabinet for drugs to put myself out of my misery. Then she put me to bed, and despite my emotional trauma, I was out like a light within seconds of hitting the pillow. I was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that I just crashed. I woke up early, with the dawn's rays filtering gently through her window blinds. I looked up and saw Joyce asleep on a chair by the bed. She'd sat with me all night, because she was afraid for me. I was touched. Later, after I got fortified with some coffee and a bagel, I steeled myself for confession. Joyce sat across the den from me while I told her every detail of my sordid relationship with George. I didn't get too graphic, but I made it clear that I'd become his whore, and a slut for any man he pointed me to. I expected her to be angry with me, as I was at myself, but instead I just got a sad, wistful look. "I think it's time for you to see what's in the package Steve left for you," she said. "If you'd like, I'll leave and let you look at it in private." I did, and when she left the room, I took a deep breath and opened it up. The first thing I saw was a stack of pictures, computer printouts of me in action. There were probably a dozen of them. The first few were from the previous week, and several showed me with George in our bedroom. That puzzled me until it dawned on me that he'd secretly put a hidden camera in there. The next group of shots was also from earlier in the week, of me meeting men at a variety of locations around the city. Finally, there were the orgy shots, about a half-dozen that were culled from a party I'd done some months earlier at the home of a friend of George's. I recalled that one in particular, because I'd set a new record, taking on 31 men in a two-day long weekend bacchanalia while Steve was overseas and the kids were at his folks for a week. Next, I encountered two envelopes, one of which contained a certified check for $1,532.65 from the bank where we'd had our joint accounts, $500 in cash and a key with a tag that read E-106. The other held the divorce papers Steve had apparently had drawn up. I noticed that the date on the petition was for Friday, my birthday. I had thought Steve was flying in from his trip that evening, but obviously he'd come home early, and spent the day arranging my downfall. For some reason, this infuriated me, and still does, to an extent. Instead of confronting me directly, he concocted this elaborate charade to get me out of the way – in jail – then took off for points unknown. Apparently, he didn't have the guts to deal with me face-to-face. At the bottom of this stack of documents was a typewritten letter from Steve. The coldness of the language shocked me, even though I understood a little bit of the pain he must have been feeling. There was no greeting or anything, he just began: "If you are reading this, then I assume you conned someone into bailing you out of jail. Congratulations. If it had been up to me, you'd have rotted in there. As you can see, I know all about you and my boss. Don't worry, George is going to get his, but good. You two deserve each other. "I'm not interested in your excuses for what you did; they don't matter. Maybe if you'd come to me and unburdened yourself, there might have been a chance I'd forgive you. But you lied to me when I asked you a few weeks ago if there was anything wrong, lied to me about what you were doing with your time, and deceived me with a man of such shockingly low morals that it takes my breath away. I thought I knew you, but apparently I was mistaken. "You have doubtless seen the divorce petition. I am suing you for divorce on the grounds of adultery and mental anguish. The only time I want to see you again is either in court or in my attorney's office. Of course, I intend to seek custody of the children, and you'd be smart not to fight me on that. Some terms of the divorce could be negotiated, but not that. As far as I'm concerned, you aren't a fit mother for my children. "The cashier's check represents half of the value of the jointly held checking account at the bank as of Friday. That account is now closed. The cash in the envelope is for you to pay back whoever bailed you out and for you to live on for the next few days until you find some place to stay. The savings account has been frozen pending negotiations to determine how much – if any – of it you should get. I intend to keep the house, and if the time comes when I decide to sell it, there will be a fair split of the proceeds. That is what my lawyer tells me I legally must do, since we are both co-signers of the note. If it were my decision, you wouldn't get anything. "The key in the other envelope is to a storage facility across town. I packed up all of your possessions – all of your clothes, makeup, toiletries, knick-knacks, photographs, books, anything that might reasonably be considered yours – and took it to this location." And the address and directions to the facility were written down there. After that, the letter continued. "The car you have been driving has been put up for sale. I'm asking $5,000 plus the note. You're welcome to buy it from me, although you may want to think about more economical transportation. Whatever. Your movements – where you go and how you get there – are no longer my concern. "I have changed cell phone plans, so the phone you have in your possession is useless, until you get a plan of your own. "You have no concept of how deeply you have hurt me by your actions. I've loved you with all of my heart, body and soul, and you have taken that love and just crushed it. There is no way I can forgive you for what I saw you do on camera, IN OUR BEDROOM. God, how could you? "I would suggest you get a lawyer so that our attorneys can work out a visitation arrangement for you and the kids. I cannot legally or morally keep them from you, but I can set conditions under which you can see them. Don't try to call or write. Your calls won't be answered and your letters will be returned unopened. I want nothing more to do with you personally. If you must contact me, do so through my attorney." At the bottom of the page was his lawyer's name, address and phone number. And that was it. He didn't even put his name at the bottom. Strangely, I looked at all of the material he'd put together almost emotionlessly. I was just drained. I had no more tears left to cry. In fact, in a sense, Steve's note jolted me out of my stupor. I knew then that I had to take control of my life. But how? It was Joyce who pointed the way. I showed her the letter and the divorce notice, and asked her for advice. The first thing she did was to give me the name of the lawyer who had handled her divorce. The second thing she handed me was a card with the address and phone number of the area's leading substance abuse rehab center. I looked at Joyce with a puzzled look. "But I'm not an alcoholic," I said. "My problem is a predator named George Fazekis." "And how do you think George Fazekis got you to spread your legs for him?" Joyce asked pointedly. "He got you drunk. How do you get through these sessions with him and his friends? You get drunk. Teresa, you may not think you're an alcoholic, but you've got every classic symptom of alcoholism. Your life as you've known it is over, thanks to alcohol. These people will help you save the life you have left. You've still got a lot to live for, but you've got to get help. You can't fight this on your own." "How do you know all of this?" I said, still in a state of denial. "Because I was where you are 10 years ago," she said, and I saw her wipe away a tear. That's when she told me about the circumstances of her divorce, and they were startlingly similar to mine, except that her drug of choice was cocaine. But the nature of her decline was eerily familiar. There was the strong-willed dealer who lured her into an illicit affair using coke as the bait. There was the descent into more and more explicit acts, then the gangbangs started and it all spiraled in on itself. She said that by the end, she was turning tricks at a sleazy motel just to get up the money for her habit. Like I said, Joyce saved my life. It was probably too late to save my marriage, but thanks to her I got the help I now know I needed. I saw the lawyer she recommended the next morning and the day after that I checked myself into the clinic. I stayed there for three months, then moved into a halfway house, which is where I've live for almost the past three months. When I left in-patient care, I went back to work for Joyce full-time. She's been a godsend, and she's become the rock that has held my life together through these trying times. At first, Steve was adamant about not helping or acknowledging my rehab in any way. But my lawyer informed him that since I was still his wife, my rehab was covered under his medical insurance plan. And he softened his stance once he decided that I was committed to getting sober. The kids started coming to see me every weekend and Steve finally came to visit a week before I moved to the halfway house. We finally talked candidly, and while it didn't repair the holes in our hearts, it did smooth over the rougher feelings. I think he did finally get some sense of what George did to me – to us – and the way he did it. I also think he began to understand that by putting his work first and me second, that he helped grease the skids for George to seduce me. It can't in any way mitigate the enormity of my transgressions, and I freely took full responsibility for my actions, which I think helped soften his feelings toward me somewhat. The upshot was that he agreed to put the divorce on hold until I get out of the clinic for good, which should be in another month or so. That's where I am now. I have little hope that we can salvage our marriage. Too much trust has been breached for him to ever trust me again, and I still haven't completely gotten over the cowardly way he revealed his knowledge of my affairs. Although I think there is still a part of each of us that still loves the other, the pain of betrayal has killed most of what affection we had. The best we can hope for is that we remain civil for the kids' sake. One thing that gave us both some sense of satisfaction was the Steve nailed George, and as he promised in his letter, he got George good. Apparently, in the past, George had used his intimidating presence to cow the couples he used like he used us. The wife slipped off to try to find work of some sort and the husband cowered away, quitting and moving on. We did neither. I stepped forward and went into rehab, admitting my problem with alcohol and taking responsibility for what I did, and Steve brilliantly outmaneuvered George, and ended up with his job. Turns out, George was a better talker than producer. He let his underlings do the work, and he took all the credit. But even though he was the president of the company, he didn't own the bulk of the stock in the company. In fact, he owned very little stock. He used his whores – i.e. me – to curry favor with those who did have significant shares of stock, and that was what he used as his power base. However, the largest shareholder – by far – was Olympia Fazekis, George's wife. The company had actually been founded by her grandfather and George had married into it. She didn't quite own a majority, but she did own over 40 percent of it. Steve went around to other vice presidents of the company, and other key personnel, told them what George had done to his marriage, what he'd done to at least a half-dozen other marriages, and devised a revolt. Together, they met with Olympia – apparently sometime that weekend when I was in jail – they told her about what George had done to me and the others, and gave her an ultimatum. Either George went or they went. Steve told me much later that it took her about a week to marshal up enough support from some other family members who owned stock in the company. But a week or so after he filed for divorce, Steve was summoned to see Olympia Fazekis, and was told that George was out and he was in as his replacement. Oh, George threatened all sorts of things, but Steve just calmly turned the screws, filing an alienation of affection lawsuit against him, claiming that his seduction of me had wrecked our marriage, which it had. I hear George is also facing a federal investigation for securities fraud and other white-collar crimes. You'll excuse me if I'm not very sympathetic. I was glad to see Steve finally achieve his career goals, but it's bittersweet. We should have been able to enjoy those achievements together, but now that probably won't happen. I expect that after I get out of rehab, we'll sit down in his attorney's office, hash out the final terms of our divorce and we'll go our separate ways. It's sad, but I think I'm better able to deal with it since I've gotten sober and learned how to handle my life without using booze as a crutch. It would be nice if Steve and I could go back to the way things were, but my actions with George and his friends have made that impossible. We let ourselves be manipulated by a master con man, who used my weakness to sow immense destruction in our lives, and it cost us our happiness together. I just wish to God I could understand why it happened.