0 comments/ 174469 views/ 16 favorites Protecting the Wife Ch. 01 By: ardentsuitor The Christmas block party was at our house this year. The nuisance of one hundred plus neighbors coming and going all day was offset by the fact that it was safe and no one had to drive anywhere. The alcohol flowed freely (and the faint odor of pot was unmistakable.) The weather was fair, and everyone was in a good mood. The thick of the party crush had been in the afternoon. By evening, the crowd was down to the old-timers, the families that had been around the longest, and the drunken. My hearing has never been the greatest and I was already pretty sloshed, so I didn't hear him the first time he said it. Besides, hadn't I already said "Hello" to him an hour ago when he first arrived? Well, maybe he hadn't heard me. What the heck, I'd just greet him again, after all, it was the holidays -- stuff like this happens but just once a year – or so I thought. Omar spoke first. "Sorry, Mr. Buckley, I fucked your wife. I just wanted to apologize." Omar was the designated driver for his father and mother. They lived across the street. They came to the block party every year. They would follow this party by making the holiday rounds to the homes of relatives ands. Apparently, getting drunk made that tolerable, but they needed Omar to drive. Omar was my daughter Katherine's age, twenty-nine. He was the nicest kid in the world, but more than a little slow. He had done way too many drugs. That hadn't helped him any. Recently, he had found God, and he had repented his ways. "Omar, it's always good to see you, too!" I realized I was more than a little smashed at this point. "Good of you to bring your parents. I'm only sorry that Katherine isn't here this year." Omar had a crush on Katherine that was never ever reciprocated. I heard something in reply, but it sounded like, "Sorry ... fuckin' ... apologize ..." I guessed that it had something to do with missing Katherine at this year's party. I was about to move on to other guests but Omar was still blathering on. "I didn't know it was her, but that's no excuse. I'm an honest person. I'm asking your forgiveness." I was beginning to think that, between the two of us, I wasn't the only one three sheets to the wind. He wasn't making any sense. "Omar," I said, "what have you been smoking?" "The Lord helped me to give up drugs, Mr. Buckley." That was Omar. Always the straight man. He was never one to get sarcasm. "I know Omar, I know. I was just kidding -- and call me Bob, not Mr. Buckley." While we talked, my wife looked over at us from across the room. She was still engaged in conversation with that Paulsen guy from down the street. Helen and I had a strategy for watching the house and for entertaining the guests. We each had our own stations. I handled the living room and greeted people at the front door. She handled the kitchen, family room, and she showed people to the guest and master bathrooms. We didn't see much of each other during the party, but we had the house under control. On the other hand, we had been at it all day and we were both getting pretty drunk. "I didn't see that it was Mrs. Buckley until it was too late." "Omar," I said, "Relax! I don't even know what you're talking about. Helen is right there." I gestured toward my wife across the room. Helen nodded in my direction and broke off her conversation. She came over to us. (Whoops, she was off her station!) She looked at me, questioningly. I said sotto voce, "Omar's off his gourd." My wife rolled her eyes and nodded. Come to think of it, she looked pretty sloshed herself. A guest started rummaging around the kitchen yelling, "I need a mop for the bathroom -- anybody know where they keep the mop?" "You'd better take care of that. I'll deal with Omar." Helen said, "He's drunk." "No, Helen, as Omar just reminded me, the Lord helped him give up drinking and drugs – but, you're right, he sure doesn't have all his oars in the water. Go ahead and deal with the bathroom. I'll take care of him." Actually, I had intended to ignore Omar. I had no idea what his problem was. Besides, I had other guests to attend to. Omar had been in our home countless times over the years. He knew his way around. "I committed adultery, and I need to repent. Please forgive me." "Listen Omar, this isn't a good time to talk about religion. I'm way too drunk and we're having a party. Maybe you'd like to go to Katherine's old room and play a video game." We'd made up her room into a combination office and guest bedroom years ago. I had installed a television, Playstation, and a bed for a future grandchild, but I used it a lot while we were waiting. "I saw Mrs. Buckley and your neighbor Mr. Paulson being adulterous. I thought I heard Katherine in her room." "No, Omar, Katherine is back at her own home, and Mrs. Buckley is right there." In fact, Helen was walking passed Mr. Paulson on her way back to the kitchen. I was getting annoyed with Omar. I was annoyed at Paulsen, too. I had never liked Bob Paulson and I had never trusted him around my wife. He had quite a reputation for being a lady's man. I knew Helen had strayed from time to time, but at least Paulson wasn't her type. Still, it was irritating to see that she could talk to him so easily. Omar didn't shut up. He kept yammering on. "I thought I heard Katherine in her room, and when I went in, she was lying on her bed." Omar was really tripping. Sad, too, because he'd been doing so well. It sounded like his mind had snapped. "She was saying, 'Fuck me! Fuck me!' over an over again. I took off my clothes and got on top of her. I didn't see him until it was too late. It was dark." I was suddenly very mad at Omar for fucking my daughter -- no wonder he wanted my forgiveness. Wait a minute! I knew I was drunk, but I wasn't so drunk that I thought my daughter was at home. Who-the-hell would be in my daughter's room? Through the fog of my drunkenness, I started to reason. Now, who is like my daughter, but not my daughter? Helen. And what is Omar saying? That he fucked my daughter. No, he's saying that he fucked my wife who was apparently fucking some other guy on my daughter's bed. But what guy? "What guy, Omar?" "I couldn't see him 'cause he was underneath her." "You couldn't see him?" "No. Not until Mrs. Buckley turned her head. Her hair was across his face. I didn't know it was her. Then I could see that it was Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Paulsen that were being adulterous. But it was too late. I came inside her. I hope she doesn't get pregnant. I'm sorry Mr. Buckley." I thought, if she was fucking Paulsen she's sure not going to get pregnant from Omar's cum up her ass, but apparently Omar doesn't know that! I had failed at trying to reassure Omar that my wife had been standing in the living room talking to Mr. Paulsen, not fucking him in Katherine's room. No, I hadn't convinced Omar, but Omar was beginning to unlock a mystery for me. I had gone through a period about ten years earlier when I was convinced that Helen and Bob were having an affair. They had known each other since high school. I was sure of it, but Helen had denied it. She said that she didn't like Bob Paulsen any better than I did. She was convincing, but there she was, talking him up tonight. Then again, that wasn't unusual given that it was a block party. Anyway, Omar was an imbecile and Helen hadn't looked too concerned when Omar was talking to me, but then again, she was drunk. On the other hand, Omar's story kind of held together. I had to admit. It was possible that Helen and Paulsen had been in Katherine's room and that they had returned to the living room after Omar interrupted them. I didn't know what to think. I was going in circles. My drunken state might have helped me on this one, because I had to decide, and I decided to believe Omar. Stranger things have happened. "Omar, I accept your apology. You are forgiven, but I'm having a party right now, so I'll talk to you later." "But I committed adultery!" I really needed him to stop talking. I needed time to think this through. "Omar, it was Mr. Paulson and Helen that committed adultery, you were, well, you were satisfying a need that Mrs. Buckley has. You did things to her that I don't do anymore." (I thought, yeah, right, she had cut me off from access to her ass years ago.) Omar wasn't quite understanding what I was saying. "It's cool between you and me, Omar, but I'm going to think up a penance for you, anyway. I owe it to you. You've helped me out more than you know." "You're a decent, God-loving man Mr. Buckley." "Thank you Omar. Give me your number and I'll call you tomorrow." Later, as we cleaned up after the party, my wife mentioned Omar. "What was Omar talking about?" I was nonchalant. "You know Omar -- completely off his rocker -- I could hardly follow what he was talking about. All I know is that I agreed to sell him my Nautilus tomorrow -- I'll talk to him then." "No! You're going out of town tomorrow, I'll deal with Omar." "Oh, right. Well, he may need help moving it, just let him into the garage and he can bring some friends to move it." "But I'll be at the firm or I might be out shopping." "Well then, I'll give him my key while I'm gone." "No! No! Don't do that! I'll make sure I'm home when he's ready to get it." I still half-believed that she hadn't done anything, but her reaction was eroding my confidence. What I didn't say was that I was going to talk to Omar, and that I was going to enlist his aid to watch for when she was at home and whom she was with. I was going to give him the key and he could pickup the Nautilus at the most awkward time possible for them -- if anything was really going on. Omar lived across the street and he wasn't working. He would stay glued to the window if I asked him. He felt indebted to me. After all, he had a penance to work out. I called Omar the next day as I took a cab to the airport. You have to tell everything to Omar twice. "Omar, thanks for being honest with me. By the way, you expressed interest in my old Nautilus. It's in the garage and you can have it, cheap." "Thank you Mr. Buckley, but I have to make amends to you." "I was getting to that, Omar. As for your penance, I would like you to watch my wife for me. It won't be easy. She's at the law firm some days and she shops a lot. You'll have to keep an eye out. If she has Mr. Paulsen over, that's when I want you to pick up the Nautilus. She knows you'll come by to get it sometime, she just doesn't know when. You and I know adultery is wrong, Omar, so we have to stop them." The cabbie was checking the rear view mirror more and more frequently. It was clear that he was catching the drift of what I was saying to Omar. "Omar, are you prepared to throw Mr. Paulsen out of my house?" "Yes I am Mr. Buckley. Adultery is a sin." "But you wouldn't hurt Mrs. Buckley, right?" "Oh no, Mr. Buckley, but Mrs. Buckley should ask for forgiveness and do penance." "Well, Omar, that's more complicated. Mrs. Buckley is a good woman, but she's got needs that have to be filled." I could see the cabbie rolling his eyes and shaking his shoulders. If she needs to get fucked and I can't do it, then I want you to do it instead of Mr. Paulsen. Can you do that for me Omar?" "I already fucked her and I have to do penance for my adultery." "Omar, they were adulterous, you were going to fuck someone that you heard begging you to fuck them. It's not your fault that they were doing that." "I guess, but I still feel badly. She's Katherine's mother." "So, Omar, I want you to help me out and you'll feel better, too. Did you like fucking Mrs. Buckley in the ass?" "I didn't do that on purpose." "But did you like it?" "Uh huh, yeah, a lot." "Well, what if I told you Mrs. Buckley likes it in the ass a lot, that she likes it more than I do, and that she'd be less likely to be adulterous if you were fucking her in the ass a lot while I was gone?" The cabbie looked like he could barely contain his laughter. "My girlfriend doesn't like it in the ass, but some girls do." "That's right Omar, and I'm trying to keep my wife from being adulterous. You can help me and Helen. I'm almost at the airport. Write down my cell phone number and call me the moment you see something. I'll call you tonight and I'll go over how to fuck Mrs. Buckley a lot while I'm gone this week." The cabbie then talked freely. "Couldn't help overhearing. Cheating wife, eh, why don't you just leave the cunt? How old is that kid anyway?" "He's not a kid, he's twenty-nine, and I'm not leaving her -- I want to start fucking her again. Besides, she makes a lot of money." "Fucking lawyers! Especially, bitch lawyers. I got divorced last year ..." "Hey, watch it. That bitch lawyer you're talking about is my wife, but, you're right: They're arrogant, they drink too much, and they sleep around, but, hey, the money is good." "Sounds like she's got a nice ass, too." "Very nice ass, but it's been way too long since I've been up it." "From the sounds of your discussion, someone's been up her asshole recently." "Yeah, but she'll be ready for me by the time I get back!" "Mister, you are so twisted!" "Maybe so, maybe so, but whaddya-gonna-to-do? Somebody's got to do it." I called Omar that night. "Omar, my key is under the mat at the back door. What I want you to do is ... Omar, are you listening?" Omar was making grunting sounds. He got back on the phone. "I found it." "Found what?" "I've got the key." "Omar, where-the-hell are you!" "I'm in your backyard." "How did you get in the yard?" We have a six-foot tall fence and a locked gate for privacy. The whole back of the house is glass and overlooks very expensive landscaping. "I'm on my cell phone and I climbed the fence -- Holy-shit!" "What, Omar, what?" "Uh, you don't have any curtains on your windows." "That's right, Omar." "And Mrs. Buckley is walking around your bedroom. It looks like she's getting ready for bed." "No, Omar, she's probably ready to take a shower." "She's taking off her clothes. You're right, she went into the bathroom." "Omar, try to focus. I don't want you to go in there until you see Mr. Paulsen and Mrs. Buckley together -- but they probably won't have the lights on when they're doing it." "I'll go get my night-vision binoculars." "You have night-vision equipment?" "Yeah, it came with my paint ball set -- Holy-shit!" "What, Omar, what now?" "She's beautiful. She's got huge tits. She's rubbing them. She's drying her cunt hair. Oh, shit! I'm going to cum." "Get a grip on yourself Omar." (Actually, I probably should have said: Don't get a grip on yourself.) "Do you like what you see, Omar? Remember what that ass felt like? You can see that she'd like it too, but not tonight -- not unless Mr. Paulson comes over." "He's already here." "What did you say?" "He just walked into your bedroom. He's taking off his shoes." Omar laughed. "He just smacked Mrs. Buckley on the ass and she jumped three feet. Now he's chasing her around the room and he's spanking her on the bed." "Omar? Omar, you there? Omar, you see, she likes to get spanked before she takes it up the ass. Is it going to be him, or you Omar?" "I'm going in!" "Not yet Omar! They're not doing it yet." "They are now. Mr. Paulsen is on the bed and Mrs. Buckley is sucking him off." "That's called foreplay Omar, you have to wait until he's fucking her." "But I really want to fuck her ass, man. I gotta fuck her ass. I can't wait. I gotta fuck her ass!" "You've got to wait Omar. Listen carefully. When he starts to fuck her, then you can go inside. Grab his clothes and throw them out the front door. Then throw him out the front door. Then tell Helen that she has to do penance for adultery and that you'll be back. Is your cell phone a camera phone?" "Yes." "Then take a picture for me when his naked ass is outside the house." "I think I've got to go." "Why? What are they doing?" "Mr. Paulsen got on the bed and Mrs. Buckley is crawling over to him. She's sitting on top of him." That's my wife! A sexually aggressive woman. "Omar, keep your cell phone on and I'll talk you through what you're going to do." "Mr. Buckley, I think they're doing it. Mrs. Buckley is bouncing up and down." "Omar, take a picture and send it to me." Within a minute, I was looking at my wife, ravenously beautiful, with long dark hair around her shoulders. I couldn't see who she was on, but I was familiar with the posture. She was definitely fucking somebody. "Okay, Omar. Go in and throw him out. Go get your girl." Omar didn't reply. The call was dropped. I heard nothing for five minutes and I began to get concerned. My cell phone chirped and an image appeared on the screen: A balding Mr. Paulsen trying to cover his naked ass on my front lawn. Way to go Omar! The next picture was a classic. My wife was stretched out in the center of our bed, propped up on one arm, with her head thrown back, and a sexy smirk across her face. One leg was still through her panties, her bra dangled from one shoulder. Her chest was flushed red with arousal. Helen flushes when she's aroused, and she flushes when she's been scared. She's always joked that there is a link between feelings of fear and her clit. It makes watching an adventure flick a real trip: She hates the suspense, but she gets very wet with arousal. It hadn't occurred to me that this would happen under these circumstances. I called Omar. "Omar, she's scared, but you haven't hurt her, right?" "I would never do that Mr. Buckley." "Okay, Omar, okay, it's alright to scare her, just be sure not to hurt her. "Mr. Buckley? She wants to know what's going on." "Tell her, Omar, tell her what you told me, about it being a sin to be adulterous, and tell her, for me, that your going to give her what she needs. Call me when you're done." This time I let the call drop. I waited for an eternity. I was certain Omar would accomplish his mission. He was about six foot-six, he was young, he was hormonally driven, and God was on his side. After tasting Helen's ass the other day, I was sure he couldn't pass up another opportunity regardless of his religious convictions. After a long while Omar called and said, "She wants to talk to you." "Put her on, Omar." "What was that all about?" "Well, Helen, now you're my Penelope, and Omar is an incestuous Telemachus. We're throwing out your suitors. If someone is going to screw you, your Odysseus is going to say how it's going to be. I presume he chose your butt." "Three orgasms and it's still tingling. I'm sitting on the toilet while I'm talking to you. I think I'm going to be here a while. That kid was huge! I don't think I've ever taken anything that big up there before, and he used it like a jackhammer. Ouch!" "After the sampler you gave him at the party, it was inevitable. It's going to be a long week." "Oh, right! Four orgasms counting that one. How did you know about that? Bob, you'll never know what it's like to feel that final squirt – up the cunt or up the ass -- makes it all worthwhile, and then it stops. You're really missing something, Bob." "Believe me, I know what that final squirt feels like, and I get it from just the right vantage point, thank you very much, and I intend to enjoy it again when I get back home." "In answer to your question, Helen: What's going on is that you have a religious crusader on your hands and he is going to protect the weaker sex from base desires, and he gets to pillage your ass as a reward. He's not as pure a fanatic as he pretends to be, but he feels he owes me something, so I'd be rude not to take him up on it," Protecting the Wife Ch. 01 "Consider it a win-win-win thing, Helen. I don't like Paulsen, you love anal, I'm luke-warm to anal, and Omar likes anal." "Bob, I don't like Paulsen either, it's just straightforward sex with him. I think he's a sleazy asshole, and he thinks I'm an easy slut and a whore. We are perfectly matched." "You mean, you were a perfect match. Use the past tense, baby. You're Omar's bitch now. He's servicing your slut ass, not Paulsen -- but even Omar's out, once I return." "Aye aye, Captain! But, don't blame Omar on me. I didn't set that up. That was a surprise to me." "Sounds like it was a pleasant surprise. You've done that before, haven't you." "Noooo ... well ... yes," she said. "What else have you done?" "Use your imagination! Listen, Bob, I may not want to give him up. I was already turned on when he scared the shit out of me -- and, well, you know what that does to me -- so by the time he started pummeling my ass, I was delirious." "You don't have to give him up, but you're also going to have to be able to accommodate my visits up your ass as well." "If it stays the way it is right now, I'll be wide open for you all the time, honey. But I hope something changes by tomorrow, because I couldn't go to work like this. Wait a minute ... Omar wants his phone back ... Oh! Oh! Oh!" "Helen? Helen? You still there?" "Yeah, I'm back. Omar came in to get his phone and he's sticking his fingers up my cunt and my butt and I'm having another fucking orgasm! I've got to go. I'll call you tomorrow." This time Helen let the call drop. I didn't know whether Omar would leave, or if he'd stay for more fucking. He was youthful, and I wouldn't put it past him to have stayed. He was probably ready to have another go. She sounded fucked out, but once Helen gets started, it's easy for her to keep on going and going. She becomes all nerve endings. She didn't call. Omar didn't call. I sent him a text message. "Thanks. Keep up the good work." I called her at the law firm the next day. "You're at your desk, I see." "Standing by my desk today, technically. It feels better that way." "Good planning, you've got to return home tonight." "Not if I can help it! I'm looking forward to another go, but I need a day's rest. Besides, I've got a lot of work to do, so I'll stay as late as I can. You know, I don't look at the guys in the office the same way anymore -- they're too old for me after you-know-who." "I know you've slept around a lot, Helen." "I know you know, Bob, but let's face it, it got me where I am today. These guys all fuck around, so we girls have to fuck around, too, if we're going to play with the big boys. Bob, I hope you know that Paulsen thing was just for relief and it didn't put my job on the line or change anything between you and me. I know I'm really not a very nice person sometimes." "I know, Helen, I know. It's over. Forget about it." "At least you both had the same name and I didn't need to worry about blurting it out in a moment of ecstasy." "Helen, just shut up about it." "Thank you Bob." I don't know why she was thanking me, because even I could foresee that she had a real problem on her hands with Omar -- at least, until I returned. She had underestimated Omar that night. She had stayed late at work, but he was over within five-minutes of her return. He wanted one thing and one thing only. The next day, Helen called a mobile locksmith. When I called later that night, she told me that the guy had been installing deadbolts when Omar came in -- obviously he was watching her 24/7 -- after all, he was in debt to me. Omar looked at the work in progress and said, "Mr. Buckley isn't going to like this." He pulled her by the arm into the bedroom, sat her down, and began spanking her butt. She wrestled free, embarrassed about what that the locksmith would think of her getting spanked by a man twenty-years younger, but Omar grabbed both arms and pushed her back down onto the bed. In actuality, Helen gets very aroused by spanking and it took all of her strength to tell him to close the door. She wasn't sure what he'd do, but he closed the door and told her to take off her pants. She said, "No," but she took them off anyway, reminding me, "He's over six feet tall!" She said that after the fucking, she was ashamed to come out of the bedroom. She gets very vocal during ass fucking, but she had to pay the locksmith. Omar promptly disassembled the dead bolts and took them with him when he left. He returned later that night with cover plates for the holes. He also took Helen by her rear hole again. That night, while we talked, Helen said, "I'm afraid of getting damaged. I've never done it this much in the butt. I'm getting quite addicted." I hadn't thought about that possibility. "What sort of damage?" "Not damage, per se, but, you know, it kind of rearranges things down there and it takes a day or two to get back to normal -- only I haven't had a day or two to recuperate, so it's, like, a little more open than I'd like." "I see, and you can expect he'll be there tomorrow night, too." "How do you know?" "Because he's helping me out while I'm gone. I told him you liked it." "You didn't!" "Yeah, I did. I told him you liked it a lot. You know why? Because you do." "Yes and no. I like it when I want it, and I don't like it when I don't want it." "Well, tell me, have you had an orgasm each and every time Omar's fucked your ass?" "No, actually, I usually have two orgasms each and every time he fucks my ass: One for me, and one when he has his orgasm, but, yeah, I get your point: I like it even when I don't ask for it." "Save some of that for me, baby." "I don't know if I'm going to be able to take anymore by the time you get home." "Well, I'll expect some from you when I see you on Friday, sore or not." "Yes sir! I'm beginning to like getting bossed around, it's much easier this way." Helen wasn't so blasé when I talked to her at eleven the next night. In fact, she was in a panic. She was angry and accusatory. "Did you tell him he could bring over anyone else? Did you? You bastard! We've got to move. This is so embarrassing!" Now she was alarming me. Something was awry. "Helen! Calm down! What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about Neil, Bubba, and Arnie, you bastard! Those stoners that he hangs out with! Do I have to spell it out for you? They all fucked the shit out of me!" I had thought I'd teach Helen a lesson, but this was taking unexpected turns. Apparently, I wasn't in control anymore. Fortunately, as you'll see next, that's when Helen's true colors shone through. Protecting the Wife Ch. 02 I was talking to my forty-something wife about her current lover, a twenty-nine year old kid. It's complicated, but the kid was the next-door neighbor, and he was "protecting" Helen for me while I was out of town. Helen was in a panic. "Did you tell him he could bring over anyone else? Did you? You bastard! We've got to move. This is so embarrassing!" Now she was alarming me. Something was awry. "Helen! Calm down! What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about Neil, Bubba, and Arnie, you bastard! Those stoners that he hangs out with!" "But he doesn't use drugs anymore. He's found religion." "Well, all I can tell you is my house reeks of pot, and we're moving as fast as I can sell it. I'm not going to be the neighborhood whore any longer. They're Katherine's peers, for Christsake!" "What are you talking about?" I asked the question, but I think I knew the answer. "Do I have to spell it out for you: Omar and his three friends spent the better part of an hour and a half cumming in my asshole. You're lucky I can even talk. I thought I had lost my mind. I didn't know a woman could do something like that for that long. It was like it was happening to someone else and I was watching. It was so dirty and erotic and wrong! And I kept cumming and cumming. All I have to do is touch myself and I can come again. Ahh! There it goes again. You bastard! You bastard!" "Helen, I didn't give him permission. He didn't ask. It didn't come up. I haven't talked to him in two days. I'll cut short my week and come home tomorrow." "You damn well better. I can't go to work like this I'm ... I'm ... too loose! I'd be better off shut up in a whorehouse. God, they treated me shitty! I've done some bad stuff in my lifetime, but this is a new low." "I'll get on the first flight. I'll deal with Omar." "Omar, it's Bob. I'm on my way home and would like to talk to you, buddy. You know what it is about. My flight arrives at noon. Call me." I would rather have talked to him in person. Fortunately, Omar called me as I was getting off the plane. "You're back early, Mr. Buckley." He sounded disappointed. "Yeah, well Helen is more than a little upset over Arnie, Bubba, and Neil. You were suppose to be watching her for me, not pimping her out." "But I wanted to pay you for the Nautilus. I would never mistreat Mrs. Buckley. I thought she wanted to do other guys." (Oh my God! He was going to pay me with the money he made off Helen's ass!) "I don't think so Omar, and now she wants to move away." "But she asked me if all my friends were hung like me." "Maybe so, Omar, but that's a long way from asking for a gangbang. You guys are Katherine's age, it's embarrassing for a mother like Helen to think of herself as a slut. What if Katherine found out?" "I see your point, Mr. Buckley, I'll tell the other guys not to say anything." "Thank you Omar. And Omar, you've done your penance, you don't need to protect Helen anymore. I'm home now." After what Helen told me, I really didn't expect it to be that easy. Helen looked okay when she greeted me at the door. I told her of my conversation with Omar. I couldn't judge her reaction, besides, the telephone was ringing. It was Omar. There was trouble. His friends would keep quiet, but they wanted one last round with Helen. They were on their way over. "Don't they know I'm home, Omar?" "Yeah, we do, but it doesn't matter." Did I hear him say, "we?" Oh god, he's in on it. He wants one last shot at her butt, too! Helen was right. We were going to have to move! There was no use keeping it from Helen. I said, "You're right. They are on their way over for 'one last time.' I'm sorry." Helen blanched momentarily, and then her chest flushed bright red. She was turned on. She got practical, and she got efficient really fast. "Help me change the sheets! Put the lube on the night table!" As we stripped the bed, I realized that she had put the best sheets on for us. She was planning a night in bed, but, now, this call meant that the night was going to be, as she put it, "... very messy. I had to throw away the sheets from the other night, and I'm not going to throw away these, too. Get the lube from the bathroom and put it on the nightstand." "What lube?" "I had to buy lube just to keep up with Omar. I was lucky I had it the other day. You can't believe what a difference it makes." Helen appeared to be taking this much better than I thought. It sounded like it might be a one-last-chance thing for her, too. The doorbell rang. Four lanky young men entered. They all looked older and more mature than when I had seen them last, but they still greeted Helen formally. "Hello, Mrs. Buckley." Kind of funny, I thought, considering how they had treated her the other night and what they were there for today. I said, "Look, I'm home a day early. This was supposed to be all over. Let me get you a beer and then you can go." My welcome was returned with a chorus of, "Thank you, Mr. Buckley." I went to the kitchen and got six beers. As I returned, I got a glimpse of Helen leading Neil by the hand to the bedroom. There was an awkward silence. Then some sounds emanated from the bedroom. I heard the telltale yelp that Helen makes when she's penetrated anally. From then on, we sipped our beers in silence save for the sound of Neil huffing and puffing, and Helen's voice coming from the bedroom. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" One-by-one, they took a trip back to the bedroom. Helen never came out. When they'd return, they would smirk and smile as if lost in the reverie of what they had just done. Omar was last to go, and he went in before Arnie came out. They were both in there together. I could hear Helen's voice. She was complaining, but soon the sounds of huffing and puffing resumed, and Helen just emitted one long continuous groan. It was all too easy to imagine what they were doing. Bubba broke the silence, "He's fucking doing it! He's fucking doing it! I gotta see this!" Bubba and Neil went into the bedroom. I stayed. Up until now, Helen had done a good job of keeping her affairs out of my face, and I had done a good job keeping my head in the sand. But, things were different now. Why should I pass up the opportunity to see her in action? I went in. Two guys, and one husband, stood around the bed and watched as Arnie and Omar treated my wife like a whore. I was amazed by the change in Helen. It couldn't have been comfortable for her – not being watched, she seemed oblivious to that – but the position. Arnie was underneath her and he bucked his hips up into her pelvis. Omar's long frame was squishing down on her. His cock was in proportion to his height and I was fascinated to see that as he slid in and out of her asshole, quite a bit of cock remained visible above her butt cheeks. Helen thrashed around – mostly though, only her head could move. Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy gasping for hair. Omar sat up and rocked back on Helen's legs. It must have shifted the angle of his cock, and her eyes bolted open in surprise. Omar grabbed her hips and he started pulling her pelvis back and forth to give himself rapid deep thrusts into her ass. Helen put her hand on the mattress to brace herself or to get up (but she couldn't) and she stared off into the distance. She looked surprised and concerned. Her mood quickly changed, however. She closed her eyes and made a combination pant and moan. She arched her butt up as best she could to give Omar better access to her ass. She must have pulled off Arnie because he immediately grabbed his cock and fed it back into her cunt. Helen wiggled down on it. It was hard for me to judge whether Helen was in pain or ecstasy or both. What was evident was that she was working hard and that she was accommodating whatever they wanted. If they moved a leg or an arm, she moved too. If they wanted more cunt or more ass, she adjusted her position. I realized that she had been through this drill a lot, and she knew her place. That was even more evident when Neil and Bubba got tired of waiting. The moment they had gotten their cocks out, Helen had reached for them without waiting for a request. She pulled one to her mouth while stroking the other. Helen looked like a pornographic contortionist servicing four guys with her cunt, ass, mouth, and hand. She was working hard! Neil and Bubba began to complain. They were watching one hot scene and they were only getting a handjob and a blowjob. Bubba grabbed Helen by the back of her head and her chin. All she could do was look at him with her eyes. She looked apprehensive and she had every right to be. Bubba was highly aroused. There was no mistaking that his dick was large, swollen purple, and ready to cum. He started thrusting farther into Helen's mouth. She gagged, but he didn't stop. He started to move faster. He was trying to cum, and it seemed like he couldn't do it fast enough. Helen sucked and slobbered, but she was also trying to back off the cock that was head-fucking her mouth. Her frantic efforts were making Arnie and Omar even more aroused. Helen took her hand off Neil and she tried to push Bubba away. She was successful for an instant and she took a deep breath and looked relieved. Then she said, "Okay. I know you want to cum. Give me a minute. Okay, cum for me. Fuck my mouth." All eyes fastened on Helen. Arnie and Omar slowed down. Bubba jabbed his cock back into Helen's mouth. He grabbed her head and chin and pulled her head back and forth over his cock. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. Basically, he masturbated himself with Helen's mouth. Helen did her best to open up as far as possible. In no time at all, Bubba froze and we watched him pump into Helen's mouth. Helen took the opportunity to breathe again, and she literally blew bubbles on exhale. The kid must have cum a huge amount. I could see Helen's throat working to swallow, but a large amount was also spilling out of her now slacken jaw and it dribbled down her chin. It was an erotic sight. Neil began to whine and complain in earnest. He wanted a lot more. Omar told him to wait until he came. Helen heard that, and between the two of them, the focus was now on getting Omar to cum in her ass. He moved faster, she bucked back. They both made guttural utterances that were so in tune with each other that I wondered if they hadn't been lovers for years – apparently they had done a lot in just the last four days. Omar bellowed as he came up her butt and he collapsed on her back. Helen went limp. Arnie complained vociferously about the weight, and Neil and Bubba were all too happy to pull Omar and Arnie off Helen and dump them unceremoniously onto the floor. There was brief debate between Neil and Bubba over what to do next. Neil had grabbed Helen's arm. Helen looked fucked-out, but she got to her hands and knees. Neil was on her in a shot. Anyone would have. Inviting was the only way to describe it. Her asshole was slightly agape and a trickle of cum oozed down toward her cunt. She still had cum on her chin. Neil filled the void in an instant, and Helen looked back over her shoulder in a sultry manner. It looked as if she was about to say something, but Neil's insistent thrusting was weakening her resolve. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her head on the floor. She stared off at know place in particular while Neil pumped away at the business end of Helen. But this wasn't what Neil and Bubba originally had in mind. Bubba complained, and Neil pulled out of Helen's ass. There was more talk about what they wanted to do. Helen looked tired, but she was accommodating. She stood up. Bubba was hard again, and he picked Helen up and slid her down over his cock. Her arms circled his neck, and her head slumped on his shoulder. Neil sandwiched her between him and Bubba, and he fumbled to get his cock into her asshole. I didn't think he'd make it because Bubba was bouncing her up and down on his cock as fast as he could. You could see the change in Helen the moment her ass came down on Neil's cock. She threw her head back and made a long groan. It was a beautiful sight. I had never seen my wife so out of control. She was at their mercy and they fucked her cunt and ass roughly in that position. They grew tired of standing, and they put her down. After a brief discussion, it was decided that they wanted her reverse cowgirl. Helen said, "Okay. That's more difficult, but here, do this ..." Helen took the initiative. She positioned Neil on the mattress, she turned, and she sat on him while guiding his cock into her ass without looking. She leaned back and motioned for Bubba to enter her cunt. Once they were in, Helen half-leaned and half-propped herself up with her arms. She did all this without uttering a peep. She was just getting them ready. Now that her body was in place, she simply said, "Okay. Go ahead and fuck me." When Bubba moved too fast, she'd push him back with her hand. If he slipped out, her hand was there to stuff him back in. I thought she looked like a porn star, and that's exactly what Omar said. "Mrs. Buckley you are amazing. You look like a girl in a video!" "Do you really think so? I don't know ... but you guys are really turning me on!" I realized that she probably had not forgotten how much older she was than they. I detected a little insecurity in her voice, but I was also amazed by how flattered she was by their attention. To say that she was really getting turned on was an understatement. She was really getting wound up. She moved faster, they moved faster. She winced in pain and bit her lip, but then she would moan. "Yes. Yes! Yeah, like that. Like that. Uh. Uh. Oh shit. Oh shit! I'm going to cum. Oh, fuck me. Fuck meeee!" It looked like Helen was going for another big orgasm. She hiked her butt up and down on Neil's cock, cussing and swearing the whole time. Clearly, this position was hitting her G-spot. Helen looked frantic in her arousal. Gone, was the cool, calm, confident persona that had set up this lurid scene. Present, was one wild bitch getting worked over by two younger guys with a lot of stamina. They had each cum – maybe twice -- and their staying power was longer this time around. Neil moved without regard to Bubba, and vice versa. Helen would react to a shift in Neil's cock, and she would get a different sensation from Bubba's cock before she had time to savor the new experience. I knew now what she meant about the other night. It looked like this was driving her crazy. I'd be surprised if she could remember her name. At this moment she was just mouth, cunt, and ass to four young cocks. Now Neil seemed close to cumming. He lifted Helen's butt up with his hands, he lifted his own butt off the mattress and, in a prodigious display of energy, he stabbed his cock into Helen at breakneck speed. Helen's eyes widened, and she blubbered incoherently. She seemed to be saying, "Noooo ..." but her own orgasm was impending. Maybe she was saying, "No" to the rough treatment her asshole was getting. I don't know, but I saw Neil thrust in particularly hard. There, he froze, lifting Helen higher off the mattress than ever. Even Bubba froze at that gesture. Then it was obvious that Neil was cumming in her butt. He lowered his butt back down to the mattress, and Helen fell back down on him. Bubba slipped out of her cunt. It looked liked they were all satiated, but Bubba hadn't cum again. Bubba was clearly still aroused. He grabbed Helen's arms and he pulled her off Neil roughly. "Move over! Come here, bitch. Give me some of that, too!" Neil rolled off the mattress. Helen was on her knees next to the mattress, and she opened her mouth and leaned toward Bubba's cock. That wasn't his intent. He shoved her face past his cock and onto the mattress. He grabbed her by the cleft of her ass and shoved more of her onto the mattress, knees still on the floor. He was yelling at her so loudly that I was afraid the neighbors would hear. "Grab your cheeks and spread them!" Helen complied, never lifting her head from the mattress. I saw just a glimpse of her asshole and cunt. They glistened from the wetness. Now, they were both very red and enlarged. It was a brief glimpse, because Bubba shot his cock up her asshole like a spike. Helen reacted viscerally. Her hands left her ass cheeks, and she grabbed her stomach like she was having a cramp. One hand worked its way down to her clit and she masturbated herself frantically, but the real show was Bubba. He fucked her hard and viciously. He grunted and panted like an animal. He chanted a mantra. "Fuck your ass, fuck your ass, fuck your dirty ass." Omar, Neil, and Arnie were slack jawed at the spectacle before them. I was astonished. We were all stroking our cocks at this sight. In distant memory, I vaguely remembered that this was my wife, that this wasn't pornography. This was Katherine's mother that was getting gangbanged by these young men. She was and she wasn't the person that she used to be. Right now, she responded like any female under such an intense assault. Helen thrashed her head around, and she talked in gasping breaths. "Ah. Ah, Ow, Ow. Ohh, Ohh, Yesss!" And then she got silent. Something was happening. She stiffened. Bubba stiffened, and he unloaded his juice up her ass. He fell back onto his heels, and his cock slipped out. As fast as it had gone in, Bubba's fluids ran right back out of Helen's ass. She must have felt the stream as it turned to a trickle, and she instinctively reached back to catch it. It was futile, of course, and her fingers were coated. She brought her hand back to her face as if wondering what to do with them, and then she did the unexpected. She sucked her fingers clean. Helen rolled her head to one side and looked up at me for the first time, and said, "Isn't it your turn?" The guys got ready to leave. They had no interest in seeing me do Helen. They had gotten what they had come for. By the time I was done using what was, to me, a disappointingly loose asshole, they were gone and Helen was snoring. The sheets were off the bed. They were spotted with lube and god-knows-what else. I lifted one of Helen's cheeks and checked. No blood. No tearing. Slightly agape, and very greasy with lube. The next day Helen and I were closer than ever. It was unanimous, we were moving. Helen said, "I want a new house, and a new law firm." I said, "I want a monogamous lifestyle, and I want a lot of ass." "It's all yours sweetie. No use letting it go to waste. I'm still thoroughly loose today." And with that, she peeled down her panties and bent over the arm of the sofa. I grabbed the lube and then quickly penetrated her. I probably didn't need the lube. It was like fucking her cunt. I didn't last long. She was a hellcat. She was going for that squirt up her butt, and I delivered. She bucked, grunted, swore, and I was certain she came big time. The moment I pulled out the cum trickled right out again with a gratuitous fart. What a whore, I thought. I didn't say that, though. Instead, I complimented her on her ability to handle four guys and her husband. How often had she done that, I asked. "Honey, please! Yeah, I've done it. Okay? I've done it a lot! So, please, don't get started." "What else have you done? Women?" "Honey!" "Animals?" "That, I definitely have not done!" "Water sports?" "Please, honey, please don't make me go there! You know I've been with a lot of guys at the office and, frankly, for a while, I went through a submissive streak with that guy Don. I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of. You don't want to hear it, and I don't want to remember it. Let's leave it at that, please." That afternoon the house was on the market and we had rented an apartment. Omar somehow found out about the new address and he showed up one day while Helen was home alone. When I got home, Helen said that he had been there. Protecting the Wife Ch. 02 "What did he want?" I asked. "What do you think he wanted!" I was dejected until Helen said, "Nothing much happened." Helen said that it was clearly Omar's intent to pickup with her where he had left off, but Helen's legal skills had come into play. She had succinctly outlined what rape was, what rape kits proved, and what penalties could result from a conviction after an expensive rape trial. She said that he still addressed her as, "Mrs. Buckley," but that he kept muttering "slut" under his breath a lot. She felt uneasy and threatened, and she began to think that he wasn't going to be deterred, so she switched gears and told him that she had found God, repented, and that she was going to renew her marriage vows. She reminded him that it would be adultery. I told Helen that I was impressed with her wits and that I was proud of her. She said, "It almost worked." I was detected again. When she had mentioned repenting, Omar had put his hand on her shoulder and pressed down. He said, "Let's pray." Helen said that she didn't believe him, at first, and that it looked more like he was going to want a blowjob, but he knelt, bowed his head, put his hands together, and said, "You start." Helen began adlibbing some prayers to buy time. Omar put his hand back on her shoulders and then slid it down to her butt. She reminded him that she was praying and he stopped, but soon she felt his hand moving up her inner thigh. He practically goosed her, and she fell forward and he immediately got on top of her. He was fumbling to get his cock out. The praying wasn't working, so Helen said, "It would be adultery if you screw me, but maybe I can give you a hand job." Without waiting for an answer, she unzipped him, pulled his cock out, and gave him the best handjob she could. I said, "Oh, honey ... I don't know ... " Helen said, "Trust me! You don't think I know what men want? I've been jerking cocks most of my life. You were right about Omar -- he's not as pure a Christian as he says, he's mostly a horny motherfucker -- literally. I knew that if I could get him to cum it would take the pressure off and he'd leave." "Did it work?" "Look at that," and she pointed to the rug in front of the television as if it would prove her point. I didn't see anything on the rug, but the television had a dried streak of something on it. "The television?" "No, the ... oh! I didn't see that!" Helen tried to rub it off with her fingers. That brush with Omar left Helen feeling uneasy that even one neighbor might have seen a young man coming and going from her apartment. She was very concerned about her reputation. (I thought that was ironic.) She didn't trust that Omar wouldn't come back. Helen decided to buy her way out of it. She reduced the price on our house, and we upped the offer on the new home. Helen had at least one more visit from Omar (that she told me about) and this time she gave him blow job to keep him happy, but we closed escrow within the month and then she was done with him – I hoped. Helen and I were never happier in our new home, new jobs, and new relationship. I still knew that it was within her character to cheat and not to tell. I knew, too, that my punishment of her had been more enjoyable to her than not. I knew that she liked to act like a slut, but that she just didn't like to be thought of as a slut. I wished I could say that our fantasies were satisfied, but in all truthfulness, after years of being cuckolded, I was kind of resigned to the fact that Helen wasn't just acting out her fantasies, this was her lifestyle. I began to recover a sense of complacency, and I thought: If we keep it private, then it's nobody's business but our own. I kinda wished Helen had kept her past private from me, too, but that notion was soon dashed. Helen told me all when she told me of her telephone call with Katherine. Protecting the Wife Ch. 03 "Mother! How could you!" Katherine was rebuking Helen, but Helen wasn't yet clear how much Katherine knew. "I know all of it. How could you cheat on Daddy like that? I know you fuck old guys like Paulsen, but why would you fuck guys my age? Why? Why?" All Helen could say was, "I'm sorry, honey. How did you find out?" Katherine said, "Arnie's sister talks to me nearly every week. Arnie thought he had died and gone to heaven. He told his sister, and she couldn't wait to tell me. She said it was like old times! They're calling you the Mother-I'd-Like-to-Fuck!" "I don't understand, what do you mean, like old times?" "My girlfriends and I would talk about you, trying to figure out if you were a whore or not. Missy Paulsen was certain of it. She said, she 'knew for sure.' Arnie's sister said that a woman wasn't a whore unless she got paid for it, and we didn't think you got paid. I said you were a lawyer and lawyer's couldn't be whores." "Oh, honey! I had no idea you knew anything back then. I'm sorry. I've always had a bad reputation, but I didn't know I had a bad reputation with you. That 'whore' thing has been around a long time. I went to high school with Bob Paulsen and his wife -- she's never liked me, and she's the main one that keeps up the 'whore' talk -- not that I haven't given her provocation. How long have you been wondering?" "Mom, I've always thought of you as a beautiful and sexy mother. I've been more proud of you than ashamed. My girlfriends and I would talk, but you looked powerful to us. When I was eleven, I remember watching you dress up in that black velvet dress and red lipstick. I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world, and then that old gray-haired guy would come over!" "What gray-haired guy? You mean my boss? The head of the firm?" "Yeah, we called him 'Gagger.' You'd put me to bed, but I couldn't help sneaking a look at you walking down the hall to the door, and he'd give you a peck on the cheek -- so sophisticated -- but then he'd put his hand on your shoulder and you'd start to kneel, and I'd be crestfallen." "Oh, honey! I'm so sorry. I thought you were asleep. What's with the 'Gagger' nickname?" "Mom, how could anybody sleep through the noise you make when you're having sex -- with Dad or with anyone else! We called him 'Gagger' because, like, each guy seemed to have a specialty. That guy obviously wanted oral. I didn't know what it was, but I called my girlfriend and told her that my mother was choking and gagging while having sex and she told me what oral sex was. That was better than when I found out what anal sex was!" "You talked to your girlfriends while I was having sex?" "What would you do? I couldn't sleep. By the time I was thirteen, I knew a lot more about sex, and I could visualize what they were doing to you, especially Mr. A." "Mr. A? What do you mean?" "The ass-fucker guy. We called him Mr. A." "Oh my God! I wish you hadn't heard all that." "You remember, then?" "Yes, I do. I won't kid you, I love anal sex, but that guy was all about talking filthy." "Well, it was just part of my sex education, and I turned out alright -- a lot more conservative than you, I might add." "Honey, I think I'm changing. But listen, I've been addicted to sex since I was thirteen. You're old enough to hear my story and I hope it helps. I thought I was hot stuff at thirteen and I dated a lot. Everybody seemed to be having intercourse, but I held out until I was fourteen. I was a freshman and this guy was a senior, and when I resisted he said, "Yeah, you're right. I don't have a condom and you're not on birth control, so we'll skip your cunt, but we don't need to give up, right? After you've had it in the butt, you won't want to go back!" I wanted to be sophisticated and cool -- I sure wasn't going to tell him that I was a virgin. Well, he was right. I loved it. I had more than one orgasm the very first time we did it even though it hurt. It's always a pain/pleasure thing for me. I never did use my cunt. I never had to use birth control. Most guys never knew it, and the ones that did loved it. It is amazing how unaware guys can be of where their cocks are! I remained a virgin until I got married." "Mom, I can't believe you were a virgin at age twenty!" "Uh, no -- I was eighteen. I was married once before your Dad." "I never knew that." "Well, it's not a nice story, but it'll explain why Missy Paulson would have had a negative impression of me. I've never been a nice person. I guess I'm old enough to admit it, now. When I was a senior I dated the football captain and I was very proud. He was really square and he wanted to get married before we had sex. I couldn't go without sex, and I cheated on him a lot. I was a virgin, which he could tell because he'd finger me, so I had to go to other guys for anal sex," "One day we were suppose to go to the movies, and I was over at another guy's house. I called my fiancé and told him to pick me up there, thinking it was innocent enough because we hadn't done anything yet. But then, the guy gets all frisky, and I got aroused, and we started to do it, like fast and in a hurry – you know, 'cause my boyfriend was coming. It was really animal-like, and hot, sweaty, and dirty. I was looking out the window for my fiancé's car and the guy just banged my ass relentlessly doggy style. When you have a reputation like mine, guys don't treat you very well, and I was getting used to feeling pretty degraded, but it never stopped me from wanting it. I felt him enlarging and about to cum, and then I didn't feel that squirt in my ass. I thought that was strange, but he had stopped moving. I saw my fiancé's car drive up, and in a panic, I pulled away from him, threw my clothes on, and rushed out the door," "I'm sitting in the movie theatre and I feel all wet and I realized that I might be smelling, so I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I sat down and saw that the guy had cum all over my bush – and I mean lots of it. I was really panicking now, because I knew I was holding it next to my cunt and it was just the right time of month to get pregnant." "I went to the sink and started splashing water on my bush -- but it was like glue. In walks this girl I knew, but not well. She was sort of a dyke -- no, she was definitely a dyke -- and we ran in different circles. She could see exactly what had happened and what a pickle I was in, so she said we had to put hot water on it. She ran the hot water and soaked paper towels and applied them to my pussy – I'd practically cum with her hand on me, what with the hot towels and all. She'd go get more, and do the same thing. It's a wonder I didn't turn into a lesbian. She tried to kiss me, but I'd move away, but she was getting her jollies just touching me, so she had nothing to complain about," "I put my pants back on and rejoined my boyfriend. I told him I thought we should get married right away. I was afraid I'd get pregnant -- and I did -- but I didn't tell him. He had a stag party before the wedding and his football team and other friends showed up. I was naive to think no one would tell. They kept goading him, saying: "Why do you think she's a virgin?" Somebody would smirk and say, "I know she's not a virgin!" Somebody else would say, "She's doubly not a virgin!" "He came home and asked me. I had to tell him that, even though I was a virgin, I had messed around some, you know, 'around back.' He didn't know what to do. I don't even think he knew what I meant. We got married anyway. We had sex. There was no chemistry. We got the marriage annulled, and I had an abortion -- I didn't tell anybody except my friends -- what I thought were my friends -- that's why Mrs. Paulsen always thought I was a whore, because of my high school days." "Wow, Mom, that's quite a load to carry for a long time! Does Dad know?" "Yeah, he does, and he knows plenty more that must be just as difficult for him, but he doesn't know everything." "Like what?" "Like, I've screwed Paulsen since high school." "Mom, I think he knows that now." "Yeah, you're probably right. He definitely knows about the law firm. I've haven't hidden the fact that I screwed my way to the top -- I'm not ashamed of that -- and your father just has to accept me for the sexual appetite that I've had. I think he does, but I try not to put it in his face -- like the other day at the party." "What does sex and your career have to do with each other?" "Well, I'll be the first to admit that I have acted like a whore around my job. Always have. It started inadvertently. I was a secretary at the law firm after graduating from high school. I should have gone directly to college, but after I married your father, we immediately had you, and I was happy to have part-time work," "In no time at all, several guys were hitting on me and made offers, and I took one of them up on it during a lunch hour. I must have had a neon sign on my butt, because he found out right a way that I liked it that way. Then everyone found out. I was very popular. Very, very popular. They liked me because I was ten times smarter than most of the secretaries, and they liked me because I put out in ways that their wives or girlfriends didn't." "How did you decide to go to law school, Mom?" "They were encouraging me because I was so smart. Technically, you don't have to have a college degree, you just have to be able to pass the bar exam -- and to be able to land a job -- but I already had a job. I didn't go right away, though, because I sort of got messed up in something." "Mom, did you use drugs?" "No. No, but it was still an addiction, it's just that it was to sex. One of the partners was, let's just say, domineering and controlling. He started keeping me to himself -- before that we use to have after-hours parties that were group things, that's the way it was back in those days. Except for being married, he wanted me for himself, and I was under his control all day at the office. Then he started taking off time, and he'd fuck me all afternoon. We got into a domination/submission thing. It surprised me that I was up for it. It's a relaxation, in a way, not to have control. Besides, anal sex is the ultimate in putting someone else in control." "Mom, you're telling me a little more than I want to know." "Whoops, sorry. Well, my tolerance for his abuse just sort of crept up on me. I didn't know it, but others at the firm were getting concerned, and then it happened. Part of his control was that he'd let other's fuck me, or he'd let women play with me when he wanted." "I wasn't a lesbian, but it's really nice to lick another woman or get licked, and women know best how to tweak my nipples. He had a girlfriend that was stunningly beautiful. I think he probably dominated her a lot at home, but he'd let her boss me around when the three of us were together. I didn't mind, because she was delicious and if she wanted to get her jollies by making me lick her, that was fine with me." "But one day, he got this guy, like, right off the street. He'd let other guys we knew fuck me before, but we didn't know this guy, and the guy fucked me really hard. I'd always been able to take it hard, and I was used to getting choking blowjobs and getting it shoved up my ass, but that guy was way beyond that. He got way out of control and he started slamming into me, and the partner couldn't -- or wouldn't -- stop him. I was pretty young and dumb in those days." "The guy was a carpenter or something, and I remember that he had rough hands. The guy had picked up right a way that I was a submissive. He'd say, "Get on your knees and suck my cock." Then, he'd slap me because I didn't do it fast enough. "I'm gonna fuck your face, bitch, so hold your breath." He'd fucked my mouth so long that I'd turn red and then blue. He'd hold his cock in my throat and I knew I'd be in big trouble if he came, but he didn't. I started gagging and choking, and I think he got off on that more than cumming. He'd say, "Get your cunt over my cock." He'd lie down and make me straddle him and make me fuck him with my cunt. That's hard on the legs, but at least I'd be in control of how deep it went – until he'd pull me all the way down and jam it up to my cervix. He seemed more intent on hurting me than giving or getting pleasure, so I was a little worried when he said he was going to fuck me up the ass. I was still straddling him, and he made me pull out and put it in my ass and sit down. That was a first! It didn't last long. He couldn't move enough in that position to satisfy his lust, so he pushed me off, positioned me on hands and knees, and then it got intense. He was too long, and he moved too quickly for me to accommodate him like that. He'd spank my ass, only way harder than anyone had ever done before. It would make me jerk hard on his cock and he seemed to like that, so he didn't stop. To this day, I don't know if he had cum – I didn't feel it – but it was a relief when he stopped, that's all I can say. The agony continued for a little longer because they left me on my hands and knees while the guy and the partner had a self-congratulatory discussion about what a good fuck I was. I liked hearing that, even if I felt like shit, but as I said, I was young and dumb in those days," "I went back to the office, but I could barely move. The other partners called me in and asked me what happened. I still covered for the shithead, but they made me strip, which was embarrassing in itself, and when they saw how tender I was, they got scared and called an ambulance. They released me from ER, because it was just superficial bruising, but I couldn't go home to your father looking like that, so the firm had me call him and tell him that I was needed at an urgent meeting in Boston and would be gone for two-weeks. They actually put me on a plane for Boston. That flight was the most uncomfortable that I've ever endured – ironically, guys still tried to pick me up, but for once in my life I turned them down. When I got there, I was met by a limousine and taken to a penthouse suite that I didn't know the law firm owned. I spent two-weeks recuperating in luxury and no one bothered me. I talked to your Dad each night," "It turned out, the penthouse belonged to that old guy you called 'Gagger' -- the founder of the firm. He saw to it that I went to law school and that I was guaranteed a position at the firm. They didn't approve of the partner that got me hurt, so they bought him out. But, what they were really afraid of was that your father would sue them. There wouldn't have been merit in a suit though, because that guy was outside the law firm and I'd pretty much had been a voluntary participant in everything else. Looking back on it, I guess I haven't been much better behaved as an adult than I had been as a teenager." "After law school, I passed the bar very quickly -- I'm very proud of that -- but I didn't want to practice law full time because I was raising you, and you were a lot of fun to be around. I wouldn't have missed raising you for anything in the world." "I remember doing tons of stuff with you, Mom, that other parents didn't have time for. You never seemed to have work conflicts – it was Dad that worked all the time." "Well, it would have been a problem, even for me. It was axiomatic that you couldn't get anywhere in a law firm working part-time, so I capitalized on my sexual looseness. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I had my cake and ate it, too!" "What do you mean?" "I mean that you were wrong, Katherine: A woman can be a lawyer and a whore, too. I had a very successful career, and I worked part-time. I still do. It quickly became apparent that most of the judges had slept with me at one time or another during my party days, or the opposing attorneys might have as well, or, at least, they would have known my history. So, I would get a big client account, work up the case, and then the firm would substitute in a hired attorney to avoid a conflict at trial time. It's court appearances that suck up your time. I rarely had to set foot in court, but I did do good work for the firm -- I mean legal work," "I'll admit it, though, I also didn't stop sleeping with big account clients, and that really does make me a whore -- although Mrs. Paulsen doesn't know about that. The firm made me a partner because it would have been hypocritical not to recognize me for the sheer volume of money that I brought in. They used to joke that I was their best asset, and they'd draw out the word as they said it. I didn't mind. I'm unashamed that I like anal sex, I'm surprised more women don't." "You would have been perfect for my last boyfriend, Mom. Before I married John I was with ... " "Yeah, you were with Kyle -- I remember. He was hunky!" "Hunky, yes, but kinky, too -- at least to me. He always wanted anal sex, and I'd never do it. You two should really hook up. He was older than me, but younger than you. You'd still be with a younger guy, but it'd be way less embarrassing than Omar and those guys -- that was really slumming it, Mom!" "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I know! It was your Dad's fault, he set me up." "Mom! Don't blame Dad. He's put up with a lot. Besides, I heard from Omar and from Arnie's sister exactly what happened." "You heard from Omar?" "Yeah, he got a hold of me through Arnie's sister, and he said he wanted to apologize for fucking you, and he told me the whole fucking story in graphic detail -- which I could have lived without, thank you. He made it sound very cool, but the image of you getting double penetrated was sickening to me." "Oh, baby, I've never been that reckless or stupid before. I'm sorry." "It's okay, Mom, you are who you are, and I still think of you as this ravenously beautiful, powerful, sexy woman. Dad does, too." "Thank you honey. I don't deserve you. Should I take you up on your old boyfriend?" "Mom! Haven't you had enough?" "I'd say yes – I've definitely had enough with guys my age, but ..." "But what?" "But I had forgotten what's it's like to get a vigorous shagging by a younger guy, so I thought, you know, that maybe ..." "You thought that maybe I'd give you Kyle's number, right? Well, I will if that's what it takes to keep you out of the gutter. He was disease free, too, which is rare these days. How have you managed over these years?" "Knock on wood, nothing more than some bouts with venereal warts. Sometimes I think my asshole juices must be worse than those STD bacteria and viruses." "Are you and Dad okay?" "Yeah, never better. I try not talk about this stuff, but he's always known something. I figure: I've never given him reason to worry. He's my main squeeze. He reigns over my cunt. I could never do without him, and he's not averse to putting it in my butt sometimes. I think I'll keep him!" When Katherine told me that she had talked frankly to her mother, I was relieved. If Helen was embarrassed, that was one thing, but it wasn't fair that Katherine should be. For that reason, I understood immediately why Katherine had put Helen in contact with Kyle. And it seemed to work. Katherine didn't have to be afraid that she'd get embarrassed by Helen dogging her age group, and I didn't have to get embarrassed by Helen doing it with the neighbors or at work. If this was going to work, I knew I was going to have to have a heart-to-heart with Kyle and lay out some ground rules. Kyle was a little sheepish, at first. He'd run into me as he left or when he'd come over, and it looked like he was embarrassed. I finally intercepted Kyle one day as he was coming and I was leaving. I said, Protecting the Wife Ch. 03 "Give it to her, Kyle. You know she likes it rough." "Are you sure? Is that alright?" "Are you kidding? It's my job to treat her like a princess, and your job to treat her like a dirty, little whore. But do your job well, man, we don't want her running to anyone else. That way, we'll all be happy." "Okay, Mr. Buckley. I've never been with a whore, but Helen's, like, well, I tell her to do the most disgusting things like rim my asshole, suck my dick until she pukes, just to get me ready to fuck her, and she's like, 'Okay!' Man, I've never known a woman like that!" "More than I want to know, Kyle, more than I want to know." "I know she likes it rough, but I don't think I can do it rough enough. I don't want to hit her. I can ream her and she begs for more. I practically fisted her and ..." "Whoa! Kyle. Man, you're killing me. That stuff's private between you and her – you don't tell anyone else, including me – and I don't want her passed around to other guys. Just the three of us and we'll all be happy." And that's exactly what we were. Not exactly hometown Mom and Dad, but who knows what kind of kinky lifestyle passes for normal in the American home these days? Maybe it's not like that in your home, and maybe it is. Obviously, you like to read about it – bet you didn't think it would be like that for Helen and Bob in the Buckley household, did you? (By the way, when I came home that night, Helen was exhausted. She looked like hell. She looked like she had really been fucked over! She looked satisfied, though, and she was curious. She asked me what I had said to Kyle. She knew something was up, but Kyle wouldn't tell her. He had given her the most intense workout she had ever had. He told her things were going to be "different" now, and that he was just getting started. Helen begged me to tell her, and she said she had to tell Kyle to give her a month before he came back. I swallowed the canary, and smiled in silence.)