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The Loving Wife

By: Umbermensch



Showanna Grant couldn't believe what she was looking at. But the files in her husband's laptop made it plain that her 'beloved' Karl had, at the least, wandering eyes . . . and fingers.

Youngslut24: mmm, yeah, baby, show me that cock. You want me to suck it don't you?

StudKarl: suck my cock, you little bitch. Suck it and make me shoot my load down your throat

Showanna swallowed, conscious that her fingers were shaking. She looked to the webcam mounted on her husband's desk, imagined him masturbating while talking dirty to some other woman. Had he watched this 'Youngslut24' as well, pleasuring herself under his gaze?

Showanna closed the password-protected files and stepped back, taking deep breaths to calm herself. In twelve years of marriage, Karl had never, ever indicated he wasn't happy with his wife. Sure, they suffered the occasional odd looks and racist glares – Showanna was a slender, beautiful black woman, whereas Karl was as white as a man could be – and her brothers teased her all the time about her marrying a 'cracker.' But they had gotten married because they were in love, and it was a love that would never die.

Or so she had always believed.

But now, here was the evidence of at least some level of unfaithfulness. Karl had been having cyber-sex with other women. How long would it be before he took that next step and cheated for real?

Showanna's stomach lurched. She felt the bile rising in her throat. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she stumbled toward the hall bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before her late lunch started coming back up.

***

"Hey, Sho, you okay?"

Showanna looked up from her desk at the sound of her best friend Tracy's voice. Tracy was an exuberant, voluptuous blonde woman, about Showanna's age of thirty-three. They had both been working in the same office for nearly two years, and often spent a couple of evenings each week out together. Tracy was a flamboyant flirt who strung along an ever-growing cadre of lovers. She had been divorced for three years and was apparently enjoying her freedom to the fullest.

Showanna nodded and forced a smile. For the past few days, she had been checking Karl's laptop for further evidence of his online infidelity. He apparently spent an hour or two in the morning with some girl in California who liked getting fucked in the ass, and his afternoons with Youngslut24. All while he told his wife with a straight face that he was working on his various work projects.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Trace."

Tracy leaned against the door frame in the tiny office, folding her arms beneath her prodigious breasts. Her lips pursed tightly. "No you're not. What's going on?

Showanna tried to shrug it off casually. "Nothing. Just . . . stuff. I haven't been—"

"It's your love life, isn't it?" asked Tracy bluntly.

Showanna blinked, startled by her friend's intuition. "O-of course not," she said with a fake smile and laugh.

"Uh-huh," said Tracy, unconvinced. "Come on, girlfriend. I can always tell when you've gotten some, and you haven't had that little glow in almost two weeks. So what's going on?"

Showanna waved her hand dismissively. "So we're in a dry spell right now, so what? Every marriage is like that once in a while."

"Hmm," mused Tracy. "So it's not that, say, he's stepping out, is it?"

Showanna shot her friend an insulted look. "Just because your husband fucked the babysitter doesn't mean that every man is like that."

Tracy snorted. "Sho, take my word for it. Men are pigs. The only thing they're good for is that piece of meat hanging between their legs. And any chance they get to stick it to some hot—"

"Stop it!" snapped Showanna, glaring. "Don't insult my husband by comparing him to that piece of shit you married."

The two women were quiet, staring at each other. Tracy finally looked away, pushing back from the doorway. "If you say so," she said, and left.

"I do say so," uttered Showanna, even as she felt like a hypocrite.

***

Karl stared at the image in the little window on his laptop. The sexy young brunette was madly jamming a glistening pink vibrator deep into her shaved cunt, just inches from the webcam she had placed on the bed between her widespread thighs. Karl loved watching Youngslut24, also known as Kim. She was an insatiable little slut, needing little more than a casual suggestion before flashing her pussy before Karl's eyes.

"Yeah, baby, fuck yourself with that dildo," he muttered while slapping his hand up down his cock. "That's it, slut, you know you want my cock . . . ."

Karl was just moments from shooting cum all over his belly when Kim stopped fucking herself and sat up. As Karl watched, she tilted the camera up toward her face and grinned sultrily at the camera while licking her own slick cum from the dildo.

That was all it took, and Karl started cumming. Ropy strands of semen shot from his dick, splattering his stomach and hand. He had his own webcam trained on his cock, and could tell that Kim was watching him. Her eyes widened, and she licked her lips. He watched her lean forward, and the window in his messenger program told him Kim was typing a message.

Youngslut24: Yummm. Wish I was there to lick up all that tasty cum, baby

Karl panted for a few moments, watching as Kim's camera moved about as she set it back on her desk and positioned herself in her chair. Her cheeks looked flushed, and her smooth, tanned face was smiling.

StudKarl: I wish you were, too, he typed. You'd really do that?

He watched her laugh, then reach for her glasses. Karl loved it when Kim put on her glasses, especially when she was sitting naked in her little apartment. The fact that Kim really was a librarian just made her that much hotter in his eyes.

Youngslut24: Lol. How many times I gotta tell you I'm a cum fiend? I'd rather take it in my mouth than my pussy.

Karl laughed, shaking his head.

StudKarl: Goddamn you're hot

Kim smiled at the camera, then impulsively lifted up and flashed her perky little tits. She sat back down, grinning as she typed.

Youngslut24: So I was gonna tell you yesterday, but I wasn't sure if it was gonna happen or not

Karl frowned, wondering what his online lover was talking about.

StudKarl: If what was gonna happen?

Youngslut24: I'm gonna be in your city in two weeks. Ready to fuck me for real?

Karl stared at the screen, at Kim's impish face. He was suddenly glad his own webcam was still trained on his semen-splattered stomach and not his face.

StudKarl: What?

Youngslut24: LOL. Hey, you always said if you had the chance you'd wanna do me, right? Well, you're gonna have your chance two weeks from Thursday. So how 'bout it? I'd like to find out how many loads of cum I can suck out of that hot dick of yours

Karl was trembling. On the one hand, here was a sexy nympho offering herself to him, eager to do all the dirty things his wife never did (Showanna had let him cum in her mouth once, and she practically threw it up). But on the other . . . .

Karl had been having fantasies about other women even since the honeymoon. But they had always been just fantasies. He never thought he could be the kind of man to cheat on his wife and be comfortable about it. Jacking off while watching a girl masturbate was one thing, but . . . to actually meet her? And fuck her?

Youngslut24: Karl?

He blinked, brought himself back to reality. His fingers seemed to have minds of their own as they typed.

StudKarl: Great. Sounds good.

He sagged back in his chair, moved the webcam so it was focused on the wall. He couldn't believe what he had just gotten himself into. But Kim had such an amazing body, so full and ripe and almost ten years younger than his wife's. He was thinking that maybe she would just be content to give him a few blow jobs, and that would be it. Getting your dick sucked isn't really cheating, right?

Youngslut24: Really? Cool! Okay, just let me get my flight and hotel info . . . .

***

It took Showanna about half an hour to stop crying. Her husband's latest chat with 'Youngslut24' left little doubt as to his intention to break the sacred trust of their marriage. He was going to meet her at the airport, take her to her hotel, and . . . .

Showanna didn't want to think about what would happen next. Her husband was going to cheat on her. That knowledge was painful enough without all the attendant images.

She finally managed to compose herself by the time Karl came back from his afternoon errands, and greeted him at the door with her usual kiss and hug and 'welcome home, honey.' They had a quiet dinner of turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes, then watched TV from separate chairs in the living room.

"Are you okay, honey?" Karl asked that evening as they got ready for bed. Showanna stood before the mirror, clad in an ivory nightie that contrasted nicely with her deep ebony skin. Her long, straightened hair swayed against her back as she took out her earrings.

"I'm fine, dear," she said, glancing to him in the reflection. Karl was already in bed, the covers drawn up to his waist. He still had his boxers on, she knew. "Just tired. It's been busy at work. Sorry if I've been so distant."

Karl smiled. For a man of thirty-four, he looked a good six or seven years younger. He felt blessed to have married such a beautiful, eternally youthful woman as Showanna. Ever since they first met, in Sophomore year at college, he knew she was the one for him.

Yet now, he was preparing to betray her trust by enjoying the charms of a sexy young cumslut named Kim. But it would only be just once, he told himself. Just to satisfy his desire to let a young woman eat his cum. Showanna would never know, and he would always love her.

"Well, maybe we can change that," he said suggestively, his cock starting to grow as he ogled his wife's plump, dark-skinned ass, barely obscured by the flimsy garment she wore.

Showanna turned around, facing him, trying not to be disgusted by her husband's advances. She managed a weak smile. "Honey . . . maybe tomorrow, okay? I've really, um, got a headache."

Karl's smile vanished. He pulled his hand from under the covers, leaving his cock. "Oh. Yeah, sure." He sighed. "I was just thinking . . . I mean, it's been a while."

Showanna came to bed and slid beneath the sheets. "I know, sweetie," she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And I'm sorry. But tomorrow, I'll be in the mood. I promise."

***

She wasn't, of course. Showanna had worn that revealing nightie on purpose, and over the following two weeks, continually teased her husband with the promise of sex, only to find some way out of it once they went to bed. She was enjoying the torture, knowing it was driving Karl to his illicit rendezvous. In a sick sort of way, she wanted her husband to do what he was planning to do.

Because it fit in with what she was planning.

"You were right, Trace," Showanna said as she and her best friend enjoyed their yogurt lunch at a little bistro table in the mall food court. "Men are pigs."

Tracy gave her best friend a surprised look. "What?"

Showana sighed, and leveled her gaze on her friend. "Karl's going to cheat on me," she said. "I know when, where, and with who."

Tracy blinked, her full, ripe lips parted. "What are you gonna do?"

Showanna smiled ruefully. "I'm gonna let him do it," she said. She took a breath. "And then, you and I . . . we're gonna make him pay for it."

Tracy stared for a long moment, reading her best friend's expression. Then slowly, slyly, she smiled.

***

Karl was nervous as he stood near the edge of the corridor near Gate 32. He had told Showanna that he had to meet with some important clients, and not to expect him home until late. He even threw in that he might have to treat his 'clients' to a strip club as a means of explaining why he might smell like perfume later that evening. He was impressed with his ingenuity.

Never had he imagined he might have been followed to the airport by his wife and her best friend.

Karl watched the passengers disembark and come through the cloistered tunnel from the airplane. Friends, lovers, wives and husbands, grandparents and grandchildren, all met and hugged, laughed smiled.

And then . . . there she was. Kim. Strutting out past the open blue-painted door, clad in a schoolgirl-like pleated skirt and tight grey tank, a leather bag slung over her shoulder. Her full breasts bounced, obviously braless, beneath her top, the nipples prominent and large. Her long brown hair danced behind her head, and her eyes flickered about from behind black-framed horn-rimmed glasses.

Karl just stared at her a moment, stunned by the reality of the woman he had come to meet . . . to fuck. Then she saw him, and grinned.

"Karl!" she exclaimed, and hurried close. Without hesitation, she pressed her curvy young body to his, reached up to tilt his head down. Karl moaned as Kim pressed her lips to his. Her breath was warm, sweet, fresh. He loved the taste of it as he sucked her lips.

"Ohhh, baby," she whispered, finally stepping back. Her dark eyes glittered through the lenses of her glasses. "You ready for me?"

Karl grinned, his cock already throbbing. "Absolutely."

***

"Fucking asshole," muttered Tracy under her breath as she sat behind the wheel of her Cougar. She and Showanna watched the black woman's husband as he escorted his lover across the parking lot of the airport. They were holding hands.

"Yup," responded Showanna, seething. She ground her teeth. "Let's follow them to the hotel, make sure they get in. Then . . . ."

Tracy grinned evilly. "Then?"

Showanna let out a deep breath. "Then we'll show him just how fucked he can be," she said.

***

Kim couldn't wait. It had been a good two months since she'd had a lover, and her appetite for cock simply couldn't be suppressed any longer. As soon as Karl got behind the wheel, Kim leaned over and reached for his belt.

"Wh-what are you doing?" asked Karl, his voice choked, caught between arousal and consternation. They were still in the airport parking lot, with dozens of people walking about.

Kim giggled like a schoolgirl as she pulled Karl's belt loose. "I'm gonna suck your dick, baby," she said casually. "Isn't that what you want me to do?"

Karl swallowed nervously, noticing how a couple of people, passing in front of the slow-moving car, glanced inside and saw what Kim was doing. One of them grinned; another blushed.

"B-but . . . now?" he asked.

Kim laughed, jerked down Karl's zipper and fished inside his red-striped boxers, finding a half-erect cock. She pulled it out through the fly of his shorts and began stroking up and down, encouraging his hardness. "Yes, now," she said. "You just keep an eye on the road. And when you wanna cum, just let it go. I want it."

Karl groaned as Kim leaned over, in full view of nearly half a dozen people, and sunk her mouth down his dick. He sighed at the hot, velvety feel of her lips and tongue, the insistent pull-suck motion of her eager mouth. Her tongue slathered the cockhead each time she drew up, and her hand stroked the distended shaft.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, his cock throbbing in the young woman's mouth. He managed to concentrate on driving, which held off his orgasm for a good ten or fifteen minutes while he guided the Jaguar through the city streets. More than once, he was sure, passersby and occupants in other vehicles caught Kim's head bobbing up and down in his lap.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm," she moaned, sucking hard, pulling with her mouth, stroking and squeezing his shaft.

They were about five minutes from the hotel, unaware of the silver Cougar a few cars back on the road. "Oh, fuck!" cried Karl, jerking his hips, shoving his prick deep into Kim's cock-hungry mouth. "I'm gonna cum, baby!"

"Mmmm," Kim moaned in response, slipping her wet mouth up until just the head of Karl's straining cock was in her mouth. She sucked as hard as she could, rubbing her tongue around the smooth head, while masturbating Karl's shaft in the fastest, tightest grip she could muster.

"Fucking Jesus! AHHHHH!!!!" cried Karl, struggling to keep the car on the road as his thick sperm, burbling and fermenting in his balls for a good two days, rushed up through his cock and filled Kim's hot sucking mouth. She moaned at tasting his thick seed, and pumped, sucked, and squeezed to get it all. His creamy gift swirled in her mouth, soaking into her lips and tongue. She made sure not a single drop escaped.

"F-f-fucking hell," murmured Karl as Kim nursed his spent and softening dick. Her jerked a few times as her talented mouth and tongue tickled the nerves in his dick. Finally, with a soft wet slurp, Kim slipped her mouth from his deflated tool and sat up. She smiled at him around her mouthful, then sucked in her cheeks and gulped down Karl's thick sperm. She loved the way it made her tummy warm.

"One down, baby," she whispered sluttily, cuddling against his arm and smacking her sticky lips. "And many more to go . . . ."

***

"They're in the room," Tracy said as she met Showanna in the hotel lobby. The black woman sat sipping her tea, long, lean, ebony legs crossed above the knee. She met Tracy's mischievous and excited eyes.

"Are they on the way?" she asked.

Tracy nodded, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "Yup. Sure you wanna do this?"

Showanna nodded. "I have to do this," she said. "And I'm gonna enjoy every fucking moment of it."

***

Karl wasn't sure that he would actually fuck Kim; after all, she seemed more than happy to get his cock in her mouth and suck him off over and over. But he was not an entirely selfish man, and after feeding her a second load as she sucked him off on the hotel room bed, he got her to turn around in a sixty-nine. Kim had a tangy, sharp-tasting cunt, so much different from his wife's. Showanna had fleshy lips and a large clit; Kim was skinny and slender everywhere, yet her clit proved sensitive as he lashed at it with his tongue.

After getting her off amid pants and moans, Karl rolled Kim onto her back and climbed up upon the bed. Kim spread her legs wide eagerly, and did not protest as Karl eased his long, slim cock into her cunt, without wrapping it in the stretchy sheath of a condom. Kim felt she could trust him; he was a married man, after all . . . .

The thrill of being fucked by a man devoted to another woman set of shockwaves of pleasure within Kim's nubile body. She always loved fucking married men; they gave it to her with anger and passion, hating themselves even as they enjoyed her body. Kim loved that feeling, knwoing she had corrupted yet another 'model husband.' She loved it just as much as she loved the idea of the eventual turmoil her lover would suffer from the tryst.

Karl was fucking her hard and fast, his cock slick from Kim's pussy and mouth, revived by the tight, hot wetness of her responsive cunt. After taking his second cum load in her mouth, Kim hadn't bothered to wipe her lips, and they glistened with his jizz. Some of it had even leaked from the corners of her mouth and along her cheeks and chin. The sight was dirty and erotic to Karl as he pounded the girl's quivering cunt.

"Fuck me!" she yelled, gripping his hips with her claw-like nails. Her legs, spread wide, kicked on either side of Karl. "Fuck my little slut cunt! Come on, bastard, fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck – yeahhhhhh!!!!!"

Kim wailed and screamed as she came, her pussy clenching down hard on Karl's thrusting cock. Frothy cum leaked from her cunt and was smeared across his balls as they slapped against her. Karl shook with ecstacy, not thinking about his wife, his job, or anything other than the tight sucking wetness of his lover's spasmodic pussy.



The Loving Wife



Mary jerked awake when the alarm went off. She reached over and silenced it quickly, then paused to make sure Mike was still asleep. She heard a soft snore and relaxed, glad that he had not been roused. He hated being woken up in the morning before the last possible moment that allowed him to get ready for work on time.

She carefully slid out of bed and went down the hall to get the kids up. Amanda was first, and she woke up smiling, reaching up for a hug. Mary wrapped her arms around the adorable five year old and kissed her on the forehead, telling her she loved her. She got the little girl out of bed and pushed her towards the bathroom to wash up, then she went across the hall to wake up Mikey.

Michael Junior, or Mikey was more like his father in the morning. He woke up grumpy, and took some coaxing to get moving. She got him going and then went to make breakfast for everyone. Once she had the kids settled at the table and eating, she went back to the master bedroom to wake Mike.

She called softly to him from the doorway, "Time to get up, sleepyhead."

He groaned as he woke up, then grunted and swung his legs to the floor. "Did you iron my shirts yesterday?"

Mary replied, "I finished the ones hanging on the ironing board."

Mike looked at the selection. "I want to wear the blue one today."

"I'll iron it for you while you shower," she replied. She was going to have trouble doing that and getting the kids ready on time, but making sacrifices was something loving wives did for their husbands, she thought wryly. The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of activity for Mary as she dressed the kids, ironed Mike's shirt, put Mikey on the bus, and got Amanda in the minivan just in time to pick up the other two youngsters in her pre-school carpool group.

When she stopped to pick up William, a cute little boy who's birthday was just a week after Amanda's, his mother came to the window of the minivan to say hi.

"Good morning, Mary. How are you doing today?"

"Good, thanks. How are you Vicky?"

"Fine, looking forward to finishing up a project at work this week. My boss seems really happy with the results."

"That's great. Congratulations!" Mary replied, wishing that she had an interesting job to look forward to, now that the kids were both in school during the day. Mike was dead set against her going back to work, however. It didn't make sense to her, but she hadn't had the energy to try to persuade him to reconsider. 

After picking up the third child and dropping them all off at the school, she headed home. As she pulled into her driveway, she saw her neighbors, Kim and Rick, come out of the house. Rick gave Kim a nice kiss and got in his Jeep, and Kim turned and waved to Mary. They were a few years older than she and Mike and had kids in middle school, but they kissed in public like newlyweds. Mary wished that Mike was more affectionate that way. She wondered if the neighborhood gossip was true. Rumor has it that Kim and Rick have an open marriage. 

When she heard that from another neighbor, she had to ask Mike what it meant. His response was that it meant that Kim was a slut. She let it go, because it seemed like her question had angered Mike, and she had to be careful not to upset him. She eventually found out from some research online that open marriages involved one or both partners having sex with others outside the marriage, with the knowledge and consent of the other partner.

Mary found this idea shocking, and was surprised that her courteous, friendly and seemingly normal neighbors harbored this secret, if it was true. She was not a prude, but she was fairly sheltered growing up, and had still been a virgin when she met Mike during their sophomore year in college. 

They began dating, and when she told him that she wouldn't have sex with him because she was waiting until marriage, he was the first boy who continued to ask her out once he found out. In fact, he pushed her to date him exclusively and they became engaged when they finished college together two years later.

The relationship wasn't perfect, she thought. Mike was rather taciturn, and didn't talk much about his feelings. He also had a temper, and got very jealous if she talked to other guys, or even smiled at them. 

Mike expected her to spend most of her time with him when they were not in classes. At first she was flattered by his constant attention. It seemed like he couldn't bear to be away from her. About a year into their marriage, though, his possessiveness turned into something darker. He got in moods where he sulked and refused to talk to her. When she attempted to ask him about it and draw him out, he lashed out at her verbally and became emotionally abusive.

She eventually figured out that he was upset whenever she mentioned anything about work that involved her working relationships with her coworkers, unless she was complaining about something. She learned to only share her disappointments, but that caused Mike to start telling her that she should think about quitting, so she just stopped talking about work altogether.

Then, a year after graduation and marriage, she became pregnant with Mikey. She was thrilled, and Mike was too. Things were much better between them, and she actually enjoyed the changes that were happening to her body. She felt more feminine than at any previous point in her life, and appreciated the encouraging comments that she got from friends and family as she drew closer to her due date.

After she gave birth, Mike brought up the idea of her staying at home with Mikey for the first year or so, and she thought it made a lot of sense based on what she read about children being with a parent during their first year. She quit her job and devoted her attention to the boy. It was the happiest time in their marriage.

As Mikey turned two, Mary brought up the idea of going back to work. Her mother lived close by and offered to keep the child during the day, and Mary was worried that she would lose her professional skills and have a hard time finding a job if she stayed out of the workforce much longer. Mike was noncommittal about the idea, but it was important to Mary so she continued to press her point.

She acknowledged to Mike that the issue wasn't just about work. She said she felt cut off from everybody except him and their son, and she wanted friendships with other adults. For some reason, Mike heard this as her wanting to meet other guys. He flew into a rage and called her a slut. She realized that he was going into one of his moods, so she dropped the subject and let him calm down.

Things were tense in the house, and even Mikey seemed to pick up on it and act more subdued. Mary kept to herself and things settled down and started to get back to normal. Then Mike went out with some guys after work one Friday night.

Mary stayed at home and played with Mikey, then put him down about eight o'clock. She read a book until eleven, and finally decided to go to bed. Just as she turned out the light, she heard the garage door go up. Mike was home.

He came into the bedroom and fumbled with his clothing in the dark. As he was pulling off his pants, he fell onto the bed awkwardly. Mary turned on the bedside light, and Mike glared at her groggily.

"Are you okay?" she asked with concern.

"What do you care?" Mike replied.

"I care because I love you. I am worried because you're drunk, and you drove home like that. What if you had an accident? God forbid, what if you were killed? What would your son and I do without you?"

"Shut up!" he shouted. "I'm sure you and Mikey would be fine if I was out of the way. Then you could move in with your boyfriend."

"What are you talking about?" Mary cried. "What boyfriend?"

Mike drew his hand back and slapped Mary so hard on the side of the face that she was knocked backwards onto the bed. She thought the expression 'seeing stars' was a figure of speech, but as she laid there in a daze she really did see pinpoints if light swirling in her field of vision. She was so shocked, she couldn't even speak.

Mike, as drunk as he was, seemed to realize the magnitude of his transgression. He climbed over Mary and began apologizing. He was crying, and rubbing his face against hers. She put her hand on his cheek as she regained her senses.

Before she could speak, his lips were on hers, kissing her tenderly in contrition. She laid still, hoping that he would not become violent again. His kiss became amorous as he misinterpreted her passiveness as absolution. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and Mary fought against a wave of nausea.

Mike tore at her pajamas, popping the buttons on the top open, and pushing the bottoms down until he caught them with his foot and pushed them off. Mary was frozen in fear. Mike had never hit her before, and her instincts for self-preservation told her to lie still and not provoke him.

Mike mounted her and forced his erection into her in one thrust. She was not ready, and cried out at the pain of the dry penetration. Mike was oblivious to her and kept thrusting. Mary lay passively under him until he came, and rolled off of her.

She realized she was holding her breath, and allowed herself to exhale, keeping watch on Mike out of the corner of her eye. He soon began snoring, and Mary got up quietly, put on her pajama bottoms, and went into their son's room. It was only after she made sure that Mikey was still asleep and she lay down on the day bed next to the crib that she allowed herself to cry. 

She was shocked at what had transpired, but in the back of her mind a voice was telling her that she knew this day was coming eventually. She wanted to shout back at that voice, and tell it to shut up. Instead she resolved that she would never allow Mike to strike her again.

The next morning, Mary stared at the bruise on her face in the mirror and Mike pleaded with her to forgive him. She was not as upset as she had been the previous night, but she was now twice as wary of him. He continued to plead his case, and promised never to hurt her again. She told him he had anger issues, and he needed to talk to someone about them. He promised that he would. She eventually told him she forgave him, just to shut him up and allow her some peace and quiet. He thanked her profusely, and told her what a loving wife she was. The phrase seemed so bizarre to her under the circumstances that it stuck in her head. 

She was embarrassed about the incident and never told anyone what happened, though her neighbors and the pastor at church all seemed to stare at her cheek the following week, despite her attempts to cover the bruise with makeup. Of course, Mike never did follow up on seeking counselling, and the one time she brought it up he gave her a look that told her she should never do so again.

Mike did treat her better, and go out of his way to be helpful. At least for a couple of months. Then Mary realized that she was pregnant again. She worked backwards from the information the obstetrician gave her about how far along she was and realized that she had probably conceived the night that Mike attacked her. 

The second pregnancy was easier than the first as far as adjusting to the changes in her body, but Mary did not enjoy it as much because of her reservations about the environment she was bringing the child into. Mike had not hit her since that awful night, but he was slipping back into his old argumentative and intimidating behaviors. 

When Amanda was born, Mary again found herself overcome with happiness and joy when she held the infant. Mikey seemed to adjust to sharing her attentions with his new sister, and everyone in the house relaxed and got along without incident. Once again the issue of going back to work was off the table for at least another year.

Mary shook herself as she came out of her reflections. It had been five years now, and she continued to deal with Mike's moods and anger issues. There had been no more physical abuse, but she still had to deal with his verbal abuse. She knew that the relative calm was not from Mike getting better, but from her being more careful.

The following week, Mary went to collect the mail and found a book in the box addressed to her. She unwrapped it and discovered a copy of "Victim No More- Surviving Spousal Abuse." She opened it and there was a card inside. It was from Vicky, the mother of little William in her carpool. 

The note said, "I know this is none of my business, but I thought this might help you. If you need someone to talk to let me know. Vicky"

Mary's first reaction was anger. Damn right it was none of her business! But then she felt a second wave of emotion, this one despair. All of her efforts to hide her shame had been for naught, apparently. If Vicky had figured out what was going on from their brief morning greetings then who else knew or suspected?

She took the book in the house and made a cup of coffee. Then she sat down and began reading.

The following morning, when Vicky came out to the car with William, Mary exchanged pleasantries with her. As Vicky strapped the child into the booster seat behind her, Mary worked up her courage. Vicky waved and started walking away, and Mary blurted, "Vicky?"

Vicky turned back and looked at her.

"Thanks for the book."

Vicky gave her a sad smile, and said, "I hope it helps. Let me know if you need to talk."

Mary paused, then asked, "How did you know?"

Vicky stepped closer to the car and glanced at the children talking and giggling in the back seat, to make sure they were not listening. "Mikey talks to Billy," she said. "Billy said that Mikey told him his dad yells at his mom a lot, and it makes him scared."

When Mary heard this her face went pale. She couldn't continue to look Vicky in the eye.

Vicky reached in the window and put her hand on Mary's in a comforting gesture.

Mary looked up at her and said, "Thanks. I better get these kids to school."

"Are you sure you are okay?" Vicky asked.

Mary nodded, and squeezed the hand that Vicky had offered her. The two smiled at each other as she backed the car out of the driveway.

For the next two weeks, Mary spent considerable time reading the book. She found the insights into abusers, and the problems and insecurities that drove them particularly interesting. She read and reread the section on triggers that precipitated verbal and physical abuse, and realized that she had become an expert on avoiding Mike's.

But the most interesting and informative chapter was the one on dealing with an abusive relationship. It stressed the importance of reporting abuse, having a support network, and getting the abuser to seek help too.

Mary despaired when she realized that she had not done anything right in her own situation. She had not reported Mike's physical attack to the police or seen anyone for the injury. She didn't have anyone to talk to to help her realize that the problem was all his fault, and that she didn't deserve any blame for what happened. And most importantly, Mike refused to acknowledge the problem and seek help. 

The final chapter was on leaving an abusive relationship. As she read it, she became scared. The book said that most abusers who failed to get help didn't get better on their own. In fact, they usually got worse. Once they started physical battery, it tended to become more frequent, and many times the abuser began lashing out at other members of the family. 

The book stressed the need for advance planning when leaving the relationship, having a safe place to go, letting a trusted friend know what your plans were, and taking the children with you. The author strongly suggested asking for a court order to keep the abuser away from the rest of the family, but warned that these were not always granted if there was no history of physical injury, and no reports of prior abusive behavior to the authorities.

Mary gave her situation a lot of thought. She carefully hid the book each night before Mike came home from work. She realized that she didn't really understand her husband well, despite just reaching their eighth wedding anniversary. 

She decided to do some investigation. She checked the computer in the study to see what he was doing on it at night while she bathed the kids and put them to bed. She found a link in the browser history to a website called Literotica. She loaded the page, and it opened to a list of stories under the category of Loving Wives. She read a few and, after getting used to the pornographic content, found out that they seemed to break into two categories. The largest category was wife sharing stories. About eighty percent of the stories under Loving Wives were in this group. The other major category was revenge stories involving husbands getting back at cheating wives with elaborate and sometimes violent revenge plots.

She was not a fan of the wife sharing stories. Some involved men actually encouraging their wives to sleep with other guys, and she was reminded of her neighbors. How could a man truly love his wife and want her to do that, she wondered? It was outside of her ability to comprehend that some couples actually felt this way. She had to admit though that, if what they said about her neighbors was true, they made it work somehow and seemed as close as any couple she knew.

She learned that the other, smaller category of stories was called BTB, or burn the bitch stories, and these stories really turned her off. They usually involved women having an affair and their husband finding out. Sometimes the husband confronted the wife and threw her out, or walked out himself. Many of these stories then had the husband go to elaborate lengths to publicly humiliate the wife, get her fired, leave her broke and homeless or hurt her emotionally. In a few extreme cases the husband had the wife killed.

Mary was appalled at these stories. In many of them, the wife had only made one mistake, and the husband's reaction was completely out of proportion to it. Could any husband really have ever loved his wife if she made a mistake and he refused to forgive her for it when she begged him for another chance? She couldn't see how. The writers in some stories seemed to imply that a man was justified in doing any terrible and abusive thing he wanted to a woman if she broke her marriage vows. To Mary, the men in these stories seemed to be actively looking for a reason to abuse, degrade and humiliate their wives. She didn't think she could ever trust a man who treated another person that way, regardless of the reason.

The other sites in the browser history were news and political advocacy sites. She didn't feel like she had learned much from what she found, so she did some research on investigating other people's internet use. One thing that caught her eye was a software tool called a keylogger. It allowed you to keep track of activity on a computer by logging each keystroke to a hidden text file where it could be viewed later. It also captured the URLs for each screen that was pulled up in the web browser.

She checked reviews on them and found several that were deemed safe and could be had for free. She downloaded a highly rated one out of curiosity, and set it up on the machine. She thought she made a mistake, because once she activated it nothing seemed to happen. Even when she typed the control key sequence to pull up the hidden file, the computer failed to respond. She went back to the company's website to reread the instructions. She realized that the prompt for the password was blind. You had to enter it after the control key sequence without getting a pop-up box.

This time, when she executed the sequence, she immediately followed with the password. Though nothing happened on the screen as she type the password, once she clicked enter a window opened and displayed the text she had typed since starting the software. On one side of the window were the keystrokes, and the URL was listed next to it in a tab on the other side. She could see the software company's URL, and the search terms she had entered to research the topic of launching the software and accessing the history file.




The Loving Wife



She smiled to herself and cleared the cached data. Then she closed the window and shut down the machine. The software was set to launch on startup.

For the next few days she made mental lists of the things she should do to be prepared for MIke's next attack. She didn't know when it would happen, but she was sure based on what she read that it was inevitable. She felt better about herself and the prospects for her kids. She had a purpose in life and she put all her efforts into it. She even realized, to her chagrin, that it would have been impossible for her to do this preparation if she had gone back to work as she wanted to.

For the next few weeks, she checked the computer each day after Mike went to work to see what was in the keylogger. She found entries for the news sites indicating that he was browsing those daily, then she came across long entries of text that he had entered while on the Literotica website. These entries were hard to read, because the file literally contained every key that he typed, and Mike was not a very good typist. She reread the display options for the software and discovered that she could toggle between a display of all the characters as they had been typed, and one that interpreted the key sequence like most word processing software would, taking out backspaced characters, and deleting anything that was typed over. When she did this his typing was much easier to read. 

It appeared that he was posting comments about the stories on the website. Some of them were positive and contained phrases like, "gave the bitch what she deserved." Others were critical of stories, or more accurately they were juvenile rants and personal attacks on the author. She pulled up the URLs in the list by clicking on them and was able to identify his comments at the end of each story on the site.

She was dismayed as she identified his posts and the stories they were attached to. He was critical of all of the stories he commented on that contained any consensual wife sharing. Some of his entries were embarrassing, they were so infantile and specious. She noticed that he always posted anonymously, and several times he posted more than once for some of the stories he didn't like. 

The posts for the BTB stories were truly alarming to her. He loved all of these stories, and his praise was always the most prolific for the stories where the husband inflicted the most pain on his wife. He wrote about the stories as though they literally happened, and addressed the characters in them as though they were real people. 

She learned three things about Mike from this. He felt any punishment was justified for a cheating wife, even murder. He couldn't separate fiction from reality, and he identified with the husbands in the cheating wife stories. 

That reminded her of his crazy accusation about her of having a boyfriend just before the first attack. Where had that come from?

A couple days later she returned home from the grocery just before noon, and she found Mike's pickup truck in the driveway. She was not expecting him to be home at this hour, and his presence set off alarm bells in her head. She parked the minivan next to his truck in the driveway and carried the grocery bags into the house.

She found Mike sitting at the kitchen table with the book in front of him. She realized that she must have forgotten to put it away before she went to the grocery, and kicked herself mentally for being so stupid. 

She walked to the counter and put the grocery bags down.

"Hi Honey, you're home early." she said with as much manufactured cheerfulness as she could muster.

Mike's face was devoid of emotion. "What's this?" he asked, poking the book toward her with his index finger.

"It's a book a friend loaned me." Mary replied.

"Which friend?"

Mary panicked, and realized she couldn't give Vicky's real name. What if Mike looked her up for retribution?

"Her name is Mary. She is one of the other moms who drop their kids off at Amanda's school in the morning. She said she read an interesting book and wanted to give it to me. I didn't even look at the cover, I just brought it home and tossed it on the table before I went to the grocery." The words tumbled out of her as fast as she could say them. Even to her ears, they sounded hollow and insincere.

Mike looked at her with the same neutral expression on his face. "Mary? Really? The same name as you?"

Mary tried to meet his stare. She nodded, but her upper lip began to quiver. The tic seemed to burst the dam of Mike's anger. He jumped up, knocking the kitchen chair over backwards.

"LIAR!" he shouted. 

Mary flinched and took a step back, but Mike strode to her and pushed her backwards onto the floor. As she went down, her left wrist was caught under her, and pain shot up from it to her elbow. Once on the floor, she scooted away from him on her butt towards the interior corner of the cabinets, trying to find sanctuary.

"YOUR BOYFRIEND GAVE IT TO YOU, DIDN'T HE?" he screamed.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Mary wailed.

Mike picked up a can of soup from a bag on the counter and threw it at her. Mary had her hands up in front of her face in self defense, and the can came in low and caught the top of her ribcage, landing like a body blow.

Mike then grabbed the jar of mayonnaise on the counter and threw that at her. This time the plastic jar hit her on the left arm, and fresh pain shot through her wrist. She screamed in agony.

Mike grabbed the ten pound sack of potatoes that were next to the bag. He swung them overhead, aiming at her cowering in the corner. Fortunately, he swung so hard that the force pulled the sack away from him. It struck the countertop above Mary's head, and the mesh tore, raining a cascade of the spuds onto her head and shoulders. 

Mary realized that if he hadn't hit the counter and tore the bag first, the blow would likely have killed her. She thought of never seeing her kids again and her fear was replaced with anger.

"STOP IT!" she shouted, jumping up with her hands thrust out towards him.

Her sudden, brave stand shocked Mike, and he did stop attacking her. He seemed to gain control of his anger, but there was no spontaneous display of contrition like there had been six years earlier. He looked around the kitchen and said, "I'll be back later. I want this mess cleaned up by the time I return."

With that, he turned and strode out of the house, slamming the front door. Mary didn't move until she heard the truck start, and the squeal of tires as he roared away from the house. Once the sound receded, Mary allowed herself five minutes of self pity, sobbing and holding her injured arm against her chest.

She pulled up her shirt and probed her rib. It hurt, but not as bad as her wrist. The amazing thing was that the potatoes did not appear to have done any serious damage to her. She inspected the countertop and found the same thing couldn't be said for it. There was a hairline crack in the two inch thick granite from the front edge all the way to the back from the force of the blow it had absorbed. 

She looked at the clock. Less than an hour before Amanda had to be picked up from school. She felt much calmer now, and filled with a steely resolve. She called her Mom and asked her if she would do her a favor...

*******************

The pickup truck returned to the house six hours later. The driver parked in the same spot he had left earlier next to the minivan, got out of the truck and staggered inside. No one else on the street saw any of this, since it was dinner time in most of the homes.

The house was silent again, and stayed dark for another 15 minutes. Then there was a loud bang, and a bright flash of light from the window of the study.

Kim and Rick looked at each other when they heard the bang. They had been watching the evening news, sitting on the sofa. Neither said anything as they both wondered if it had been a gunshot. Twenty or thirty seconds later they heard a woman scream.

Rick jumped up and told Kim to call the police. As he ran to the front door, Kim yelled for him to stop. He looked back at her, and she said, "Please be careful."

He nodded and looked out the front door before opening it.

*****************

An hour later, Kim was sitting next to Mary on the sofa in Mary's house, as Mary stared blankly at the empty fireplace.

The police were talking to Rick in the Foyer. 

"So you didn't see or hear anything from this house before the shot?" the middle aged detective asked Rick.

"No. Kim and I both got home around five thirty, then we made dinner, and sat down to watch the news. The shot was the first thing we heard all night from over here."

"And you aren't close to..." the detective glanced down at his notes. "Mary or the deceased?"

Rick glanced around the tidy interior of the house. "No, this is the first time we have ever been in the house. Mary and Mike didn't entertain or socialize, that we knew of. They kept to themselves."

The detective thanked Rick and excused him to return to his wife, who was talking softly to the still nearly comatose wife, Mary.

Captain Hernandez, the ranking police officer on duty, came through the front door and found the detective talking to the crime scene photographer. 

"What have we got?" he asked.

"I've been collecting statements from the witnesses, such as they are. Nobody saw anything and nobody heard anything prior to the gunshot."

"Where is Vanessa?''

"Detective Scott is in the room with the body." he replied, pointing to a door next to the kitchen.

Hernandez strode carefully to the door and peered inside before entering. Detective Vanessa Scott and an evidence technician were carefully bagging and labeling items on the desk. They were wearing gloves and booties.

"How far out is your perimeter?" Hernandez asked Scott.

"You can come to the front of that chair," she replied, gesturing behind her.

Hernandez moved forward and stopped, waiting for Scott to speak. He looked around and saw the deceased, lying back in the chair with his arms over the armrests on either side, and his palms open outward. There was a small hole in his right temple, and a spray of blood on the wall to the left of the body. At least a .38, he thought, based on the bullet exiting the opposite side of the head and the amount of spatter on the wall.

"Here is what we have." Detective Scott began. "Deceased name is Mike Bronson. His wife Mary is in there on the sofa. He came home about six, and he had been drinking. His wife doesn't know where, but she suggested the names of a two of his friends we might ask. She offered him dinner, but he said no. Unusual because she says he usually has dinner with her and the kids every night.

As for the kids, they are with Mary's mom tonight. She says she called her mom earlier today to ask her to take them so she could have a night alone with her husband."

Vanessa and the Captain exchanged a look. She continued, "I checked upstairs. There is a bubble bath getting cold in the tub, and clean lingerie laid out on the bed. The wife says her husband came in here and she went back upstairs to take her bath. She didn't make it into the tub before she heard the shot.

She ran back down here and found him with this in his right hand." She handed Hernandez the bagged gun. "Glock 19, nine millimeter. It has a full clip, minus the one in the wall over there. 

Also found a note, still on the pad." she handed another bag to the Captain. he peered at the handwriting through the bag.

"Dear Mary, I can't take it. I'm sorry." he read. "Not signed." he added.

"Yeah, most guys sign their notes. Women are more likely not to. Also strange to have a greeting but no signature, and its really short, even for a guy. Most suicide notes are longer if they bother to leave one."

"So the wife was the first one on the scene?"

"Yeah, she had blood on her hands, and some on her forehead. The neighbor says he found her with her hands on her husband's shoulders and her forehead against his, crying, when he came in. The gun was on the floor under the right hand of the deceased. 

We got her to change out of the clothes she had on, and we bagged them to go for spatter and powder residue testing. I didn't find anything when I did a visual check on them.

We also swabbed her hands in addition to his, and we got a set of prints from her voluntarily."

"You advised her that she could talk to an attorney first, right?"

Detective Scott gave the Captain a withering look and said nothing.

"The gun was kept in the desk here, along with one box of 9 x 19 bullets. The box is full except for the 15 that were in the clip. Mary says her husband bought the gun several years ago. claims she never used it herself, and has never touched it or the ammo. She doesn't know if he ever fired it, before tonight that is. No trigger lock or lock on the drawer it was in.

We will run everything for prints, of course. Checked the rest of the house and found nothing."

Everyone was silent for a moment, then Detective Scott added, "Mary has an injured left wrist. I think she was trying to hide it from me when we got here, but when I asked her about it, she said she fell bringing the groceries in earlier today. The story checks out. There is a torn potato bag in the trash, and a couple of dented cans and plastic jars in the pantry."

"Okay, good work." Captain Hernandez said. "Let's wrap it up in here and let them get the body out."

Later that week, Vanessa stuck her head into the Captain's office. "Got a minute, Hank?"

He looked up and said, "Sure, come on in and have a seat, Vanessa."

"We got the labs from the Bronson case back." she said as she sat opposite the Captain.

"Anything interesting?" he asked.

"Nope. Pretty much what we expected. His prints on the gun and bullets, but not hers. Power residue on his right hand and arm, none on her or her clothes. Blood spatter everywhere except on her or her clothes."

"Sounds open and shut, what with the note he left." the Captain concluded.

"Yeah, but something about the case bothers me. When we started talking to family and neighbors, everyone seemed to hint at marital difficulties. Neighbors heard shouting, mostly from him. and some thought he might have been physically abusive to her."

"But we have no record of domestics to that address, right? And no hospital or doctor's records of injuries of any kind?"

"Right. I just keep thinking of how the wife looked at me when I first arrived." Vanessa told him. "She was crying, like the neighbor said, and I asked her if she was okay. She just nodded and stood there beside her husband's body as I talked to her.

I eventually asked her if she wanted to go somewhere else. I mean, the scene was pretty gruesome. You know what she said?"

"Tell me," the Captain replied.

"She said I'd rather stay here. When I asked her why, she replied 'It's what a loving wife should do.'"

**********************

Mary sat next to her boyfriend on the sofa. Mikey and Amanda were playing happily on the floor in front of them. She looked at Steve, and gave him a smile. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

It had been a year since that awful night. The kids were too young to realize it, but the anniversary brought unwelcome memories back for Mary.

She should be thinking about the wonderful man next to her, she thought. She met him at her job, when she went back to work as an accountant. He was divorced, but he was a good man. He listened to her and could talk about his feelings. Most importantly, she had never heard him utter a single word in anger.

Instead, she found herself drawn back to that night, remembering what happened. 

When Mike got home after their fight he was drunk, which Mary had thanked god for many times since then. He staggered in and plopped down on the sofa.

Mary approached him warily, and asked what he wanted for supper. He said he wasn't hungry. He asked where the kids were, and Mary said they were staying with her mother for the night.

That seemed to register with him, and he told Mary she couldn't leave him. He wasn't menacing when he said it, but more resigned and worried.

"You have to get help for your anger." she told him.

He agreed quickly, which indicated to Mary that he was no more sincere about doing it this time than he had been before. She had the book in her hand and she told him she was going to return it to her friend, but she needed his help with something.

"I want to write her a note," she said, "but my wrist is injured and I can't hold a pen. I need you to write the note for me."

If he hadn't been drunk and anxious to mollify her, Mike probably would have questioned why she needed a note if she could just hand the book over to her friend. Instead, he allowed her to lead him to the den and seat him at the desk. She told him what to write, and he labored to get it down legibly. 

When he finished, she told him to stay there, and she would bring him some aspirin and a glass of water. Mike grunted and sat back in the chair. His head was beginning to hurt, so he closed his eyes.

When Mary came back five minutes later, he didn't even turn to look at her. If he had, he probably would have asked her what she was wearing. 

Mary saw that he was still sitting in the chair with his eyes closed. She knew that she might never have another opportunity like this one. She strode purposefully towards him and raised her right hand. When the gun was six inches from his temple, she pulled the trigger.

If she hadn't planned ahead, she probably would have frozen when the gun went off. It sounded far louder than she expected and the mess from the head wound was considerable. She had researched the gun and how to fire it on YouTube using a tablet PC at an internet cafe. The videos had prepared her to inspect the weapon, load it and make sure it was ready to fire, but it was still surprising to her when the gun actually went off.

She knew she only had a couple of minutes before someone would investigate the noise, and she had to work quickly.

She checked her gloved hands to make sure there was no blood on the palms. then she rubbed the back surface of her gloved right hand against the back of Mike's right hand. She hoped that enough gunpowder residue would transfer to his hand to be detected. She put the gun in his right hand and closed the fingers around the grip, then let go of the hand, and the gun dropped to the carpet below it.

She peeled off the thin plastic painters coverall she was wearing over her clothes and the gloves taped to the sleeves came off with it, just like when she practiced. She wadded it up, inside out, and then pulled up the grill in the floor for the heating system and stuffed the wad of plastic as far down as she could. When she replaced the grill, nothing could be seen in the dark duct below. She had turned the air flow to that duct off at the distribution box in the basement, to make sure the furnace didn't blow the evidence of her crime right out of the floor when the police were there.

She stood up and looked around the room. She checked her face for blood spatter in the mirror. She didn't have to get it off, she just needed to make sure it wasn't obvious. She would end up with blood on her head anyway.

Satisfied, she turned back to her husband. Now that she was no longer on autopilot, the gravity and horror of what she had done hit her. She didn't have to force the terrified scream that came out of her mouth.

The investigation into the shooting had been difficult. She didn't think that Detective Scott bought everything she told her, but apparently there were not enough inconsistencies to warrant further investigation. The case was ruled a suicide, and the body was returned to her after the autopsy.




The Loving Wife



She had Mike cremated, and held a small funeral service. It was mostly family members and a few of MIke's work associates. Her neighbors, Rick and Kim stopped by. They all tried to comfort her, but she was struggling with the guilt of taking her husband's life. She had many lonely days and thoughts of committing suicide herself in the months that followed, but she had done what she did for her children, and their unconditional love pulled her through that dark period.

Mike had a life insurance policy at work that paid out enough money to keep them going for several months. She was surprised that it paid out, since the death was ruled a suicide, but she found out that some policies do if the insured has held them long enough.

The money wasn't much, but she wanted to be out of the house she shared with Mike. She put it on the market and found a three bedroom condo that she liked. The house sold in less than two months and she was able to buy the condo.

Her job search got her into an accounting firm as an accounting clerk. She performed well, and was given a quick promotion to junior accountant, as the firm realized she had the kind of skills that made her likely to move on if they didn't.

Once she had her career in order, she focused on her children. She was worried about the emotional damage losing their father had caused, and got them into family counselling. The counselor worked with all of them and the kids seemed to be adjusting well. She realized in the process that Mike's lack of attention to the kids, and their fear of his outbursts probably made the transition to life without him easier for them.

That only left her, and her own private guilt, to be resolved. In hindsight, she realized that she had handled the relationship with MIke badly from the beginning. His obsession with her was not healthy, and she should have sought help for them as soon as he became abusive. By keeping everything secret she made both the situation, and getting out of it, worse.

If she had it to do over again, she would just take the kids and leave. There was risk with that, of course, but she had taken enormous risks with what she had done, too. Most women who walk away from abusive relationships end up okay in the end. 

Mary pushed the maudlin memories of her mistakes away and turned to Steve. She wasn't sure she deserved him, given her history, but she was doing her best to convince herself that she did.

"I think I love you." she told him.

He smiled and kissed her. "I know I love you." he replied.



The Loving Wife



"Oh, baby, I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum so hard!" he grunted, burying his tool inside her over and over.

Kim's eyes flashed open, her face glistening with blush and sweat. "Cum in my pussy, baby! Come on, shoot your fucking load in my cunt! I want it!"

Karl gasped, moaned, then sighed as his balls deflated, driving another hot load of semen up through his shaft and into Kim's tight little tunnel. He jerked and thrashed with each spurt of cum, and Kim cooed and sighed at the feel of his steamy deposit in her womb. She squeezed his cock with her cunt muscles to get it all.

"Ohh, baby, yeah . . . ." she moaned.

Karl sighed heavily, his dick buried to the hilt in Kim's swollen, hairless twat. He shuddered with aftershocks, feeling the last trickle of sperm leave his body to be soaked up within Kim's sweet walls. Then slowly, carefully, he pulled out, his cock shiny, wet, and half-hard.

"Oh, baby, let me clean that thing," urged Kim, her head half hanging off the edge of the bed. Karl complied, slipping to the end of the bed, and moaned as Kim took his slick prick between her lips, sucking off their mingled fluid and swallowing it down.

So fucking hot, Karl thought. Showanna would never suck my dick after I came inside her . . . .

He was startled by a hard pounding at the hotel room door.

"What the fuck?"

Kim sat up, wiping her mouth, turning on the bed and giving Karl a fearful look. "Is that your wife?" she asked.

Karl swallowed nervously, his heart thumping with anxiety. "N-no, can't be," he said. "She thinks I'm with a client."

"Mr. Grant! It's hotel security. Please open up."

Karl sighed at the sound of the man's voice through the door. Whoever it was, it wasn't his wife, and that was cause for some amount of relief. "Hold on!" he said, stepping from the bed. He went to the bathroom, grabbed one of the hotel robes as Kim slid her sexy body under the covers. Tying the robe about his waist, he motioned for Kim to stay put as he headed to the door.

"Mr. Grant—"

He jerked open the door, looking up the face of a tall, strong-looking black man wearing a white button-down shirt and black slacks. He had a shaved head and a thin goatee.

"What's this about?" asked Karl.

The black man sneered. "We've gotten complaints about noise," he said. "May I come in?"

Without waiting for a response, the black man stepped into the room, right up to the foot of the bed. The smell of sex was thick in the air. Kim clutched the sheets to her chest, staring in apprehension at the intruder.

Karl frowned, turning to face the man. "Now, wait a sec—" he began, but he was interrupted as another man, this one short, stocky, and obviously Hispanic, breezed past him. He was dressed the same as the black man. "Wh-what's going on?"

The Hispanic man did not answer, neither did the black man. Both men stood in the room, facing Karl, smug expressions on their faces.

"Don't ask them, honey, ask me."

Karl froze for what seemed like a lifetime, then slowly turned until he could see his wife standing in the doorway. She wore a black one-piece dress with stockings and heels. Behind her was her best friend Tracy, clad similarly, but her dress was red.

"Sh-Showanna—" he began.

She shot him an acidic look, strutting past him into the room, to join the two men. Behind her, Tracy closed and bolted the door.

"Save it, Karl," Showanna said, glaring at him. She slipped the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Aside from the stockings, heels and garter belt, she was now nude. Her ebony skin glowed; her freshly-shaved pussy looked sleek and shiny. Her breasts, smallish in size but very perky, tilted up toward the ceiling, capped with the chocolate-colored nipples Karl had spent so many years nursing with his lips.

She looked to the bed, spying a very intimidated and wondering young brunette woman, cowering under the cheap linen sheets. "You must be the cheap white slut, Kim," she spat. "Did you have fun fucking my husband?"

Kim said nothing. She just stared, her eyes wide, seeing only blurry shapes as her glasses lay on the bedside table.

"Showanna, look—" said Karl, stepping toward his wife. He stopped as the tall black man boldly cupped her breasts from behind. A brown-skinned hand slid down Showanna's soft abdomen toward her shaved sex.

"No," commanded Showanna, pushing her hips out to allow the Hispanic man's thick fingers into her dark pink folds. "You look. You watch. Watch as I let these two studs fuck me right in front of you."

Karl gasped. "Baby, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to . . . I-I mean . . . I love you!"

He grunted in discomfort as Tracy, coming up behind him, grabbed his wrists and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold metal around his wrists, then heard the metallic click as the handcuffs were locked.

"Then you're gonna love watching her fuck," hissed the buxom blonde in his ear. She kicked the backs of his knees, and Karl cried out, falling to the floor. Tracy jerked him up on his knees with a fistful of his hair, making sure he got a good look as Showanna crawled up upon the bed, approaching Kim like a predator, pulling the sheets down. Meanwhile, the two men were taking their clothes off, revealing powerfully muscular bodies which Karl could not help but envy.

"H-honey," Karl begged, struggling against Tracy's amazonian grip on his hair. "Please don't do this . . . ."

Showanna shot him a look as she was poised over Kim's nude body. The two men both chuckled.

"Listen to that shit," spat the black man, then mocked Karl's voice. "'Honey, please don't do this!'" He laughed, looking upon Karl with contempt as he stroked his long, thick cock.

"What a fucking wimp," agreed the Hispanic, whose cock was also hard and impressive. "Can't believe such a hot bitch like Showanna married this loser."

"Quiet!" snapped Showanna, who then looked down upon Kim. The younger woman trembled visibly, her dark eyes wide and round.

"Wh-what are you gonna do to me?" she mewled.

Showanna grinned evilly, her eyes wandering own the brunette's sex-slicked body. She settled a hand on one of Kim's large tits and squeezed, making the nipple pucker out. With a lick of her lips, Showanna gazed into the younger slut's eyes. "Well, you came here t get fucked, didn't you?"

Kim swallowed nervously, her eyes darting to the left as the bed shifted. The Hispanic man knelt beside the two women's heads, his cock intruding between their faces. The thick, musky smell filled their senses. At the same time, Kim felt her legs being spread apart by a pair of rough, calloused hands.

"Open your mouth, slut," ordered Showanna, grasping the brown dick between them by the base. She swiped her tongue across the glistening head.

"Oh, God, please d—Ummph!" her words were muffled as Showanna forced the thick, heavily veined phallus past her lips, which stretched around the titanic intruder. "That's it, you little white bitch, suck his cock." Showanna watched as the Hispanic man leaned into the brunette,. whose eyes bulged as her throat was rudely stuffed with cock. At the same time, she forced Kim's legs up and apart with her own, remaining on all fours over the woman.

Behind the two women, the black man grinned as he gazed upon the exposed pussies and assholes offered to him. The contrast of Showanna's dark skin to Kim's much paler tone was erotic, making his long python twitch. The remains of Karl's semen dribbled out of Kim's gaping cunt, down over her asshole. Taking a fistful of bedsheet, he wiped the fluid away, then positioned the massive head of his cock against Kim's snatch.

Karl stared, helpless, held fast by his kneeling position and the fact that Tracy was standing on his feet. He felt her move, then saw the red dress drop down before his eyes to a shimmering puddle of silk on the floor. Then her hair brushed his face, her copious breasts – larger than Kim's – resting against his back.

"Watch, Karly," she said, feminizing his name. "He's gonna fuck your little whore, and he's gonna make her scream I bet you can just imagine what that nice, big dick is going to do to your little tramp, can't you? Well, let me tell you, it'll make her cum a lot harder than your little prick ever did."

Karl whimpered, then winced as he watched Kim's tight little pussy stretching around the head of the black monster that penetrated her. The brunette squirmed, thrashing her head back and forth, trying to get her mouth off the Hispanic man's beer can-thick cock so she could scream. But Showanna held the woman's head in place as the owner of the brown cock slammed into her throat once more. Tears dripped from Kim's eyes.

The black man shoved his cock steadily into Kim's cunt, while groping Showanna's firm bubble-butt and stroking her slick pussy with his fingers. Karl had never seen his wife so wet before; she was literally dripping pussy juice off her clit, onto Kim's bald mound.

"Oh, yeah, that's a tight cunt, baby," growled the black man. "How's that mouth, Miguel?"

Miguel grunted, sighing as he fucked Kim's mouth with tireless thrusts. "Gonna make me bust a nut, Lewis," he moaned, holding a fistful of Kim's hair. Saliva oozed from her mouth and down her cheeks. Showanna was busy sucking on the brunette's thick nipples, rolling her hips as Lewis plunged his fingers into her snug wet pussy.

"Feed that little bitch," grunted Lewis, sliding his monster cock back and forth in Kim's pussy. The seal of the girl's cunt was so tight that his cock made loud squelching noises each time he plunged in.

"No, it's mine!" declared Showanna, slurping her mouth from Kim's tit. She grabbed Miguel's ready-to-burst cock and jerked it from Kim's mouth. The brunette heaved, gasping for air, her face red. She started to scream, but Showanna was quick to cover the younger woman's mouth with her hand. And at the same time, just as the slit in Miguel's cock broadened, a thick dollop of semen beginning to burst out, Showanna cupped her mouth around the cockhead, sucking hard.

Miguel sighed loudly with his release, emptying his thick sperm into Showanna's mouth. He held her head in his meaty hands, puming his cock toward her face. Showanna hung on, brow furrowing as she tasted his semen, as she allowed it to fill her mouth.

Karl stared in disbelief. Showanna never liked the taste of cum, he knew, yet here she was, gleefully sucking out another man's loud right in front of him. He felt a sharp stab of pain through his heart. Why would she do this for a stranger, when, in a dozen years of marriage, she had never done it for him?

Showanna slurped her cum-dripping lips from Miguel's satisfied cock and crawled off of Kim's abused body. Miguel quelled any sounds Kim might make by shoving his still-fat dick back into Kim's mouth. The girl shuddered as she was held fast by the two men fucking her.

Showanna approached her husband, lips pursed around a full mouth. Karl stared up at her. "Wh-what are you—"

"Ptew!" Showanna spat, spewing her mouthful of cum onto her husband's face. The full load splashed all over Karl's eyes, forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips. And naturally, since he was in the midst of speaking, some of it made it past his lips and into his mouth.

Tracy squealed with laughter, holding Karl's head still as he shuddered and gagged, spitting out the semen in his mouth. "Baby, you're a mess!"

Showanna wiped her mouth, gave Karl a haughty look. "I figured, you wanted me to eat cum so badly, might as well share the treat," she said. Then she gabbed Karl's head and forced her sopping pussy to his face. "Eat me cunt, baby," she demanded. "But a good little husband and lick your wife's pussy."

Karl hesitantly complied as, upon the bed, Lewis was grinding into Kim's pussy, shoving every one of his twelve inches into the woman's seething cunt. Tracy got up from the floor, satisfied that the docile husband she had been guarding was safe in his wife's hands. Eager to involve herself in the fun, she climbed up on the bed, grinning excitedly, and promptly sat on Kim's face as Miguel pulled his cock from the girl's mouth.

Tracy squirmed on Kim's face, giggling at the feel of the young woman's lips and nose against her bushy blonde pussy. "Now, be a good little whore and lick my cunt . . . yeah, that's it, sweetie . . . oh, you've tasted pussy before . . . ."

Karl heard all this as his wife ground her hips against his mouth. Showanna rubbed her cunt all over his face, making sure she smeared Miguel's cum into it before returning her snatch to her husband's mouth. She grinned at the expressions of discomfort and disgust as Karl was forced to lick another man's sperm from her pussy.

"We could have done this the nice way, baby," Showanna said, glaring at her husband. "We could have talked about fantasies, about having a threesome. You could have been more patient with me, maybe been a little better in bed, if you wanted me to suck you off. But no, you had to go find some online trailer trash whore instead. Such a shame, baby."

Karl tried to speak, but his words were muffled by his wife's slick, fleshy cunt. He hated the flavor of semen, but felt he had no choice but to lick it up as his wife commanded. This was all his fault, after all . . . .

Lewis, still pounding into Kim's raw cunt, suddenly let out a howl and arched his back, his thick cock pulsing as it spent its massive load deep into Kim's cunt. The girl moaned into Tracy's pussy, now eagerly lapping at the blonde woman's furry pussy, her pussy spasming at the feel of the hot thick load of cum gushing inside her. Inspired by the sights before him, Miguel stood on the bed and straddled both women, his feet on either side of Kim's heaving body, is cock settling between the massive globes of Tracy's double-D chest.

Tracy grinned up at the Hispanic man. "Ooo, baby, yeah, fuck my tits. Fuck my fucking tits . . . ."

Showanna turned away from her husband, looking back as Lewis, panting, withdrew his thick monster cock from Kim's pussy. It was slick and frothy with cum, and more of the pasty white fluid began oozing from Kim's overfucked pussy.

"Come on," commanded Showanna, grabbing a handful of Karl's hair and dragging him to the bed. She guided him around to the edge of the bed, then shoved him over, pushing his face down to Kim's sloppy pussy. She straddled her husband's back, keeping him motionless.

"You know what to do, baby," cooed Showanna.

Karl grimaced. The smell of spent semen mixed with Kim's aroma was overpowering, offensive. The sight of all that cum oozing out of Kim's gaping hole disgusted him. But he found he had no choice but do what his wife wanted him to do, and he steeled himself against the grizzly task of licking up the black man's sperm from Kim's cunt.

"Yeah, that's it, honey," said Showanna in his ear. "Lick it all up. Make sure you get every drop. Hmm, looks like you're developing a taste for cum."

Karl gagged at both his wife's words and the reality of what he was doing. The humiliation was intense, and he couldn't help but cry as his heart recoiled in pain. Why is she doing this to me?

Showanna shoved Karl's face down even deeper into Kim's pussy, sat up straight. She looked to Lewis, whose thick cock showed signs of revival. All it took was a nod from her, and Lewis understood what he was to do.

"Enjoying yourself, sweetie?" Showanna asked her husband, once again leaning over him. "You like eating cum from a woman's pussy, don't you? Tell me you love it, baby."

Karl sputtered, lifting his head. His face glistened with the residue of two men's spermloads. "Please, Showanna, I-I'm sorry—"

She slapped him across the back of his head. "That's not what you're supposed to say, baby. You love me, don't you?"

Karl shuddered as he cried, and nodded. "Of course, baby. I love you."

Showanna's eyes glowed. "And you love eating cum from a woman's cunt, don't you?"

Karl made a sickening, choking sound as he bawled.

"Don't you!" cried Showanna.

"Y-yes . . ." lamented Karl, eager to say anything now, just to make the humiliation end.

Showanna looked behind her as Lewis got into position, smearing lubricant along his dark, ebony shaft. She grinned, then returned her attention to her husband.

"Are you sorry, baby?" she asked Karl, kissing the edge of his ear.

"Yes, I'm sorry," sobbed Karl.

"Hmm, I'm not sure if you mean that, Karly," she said. As she spoke those words, Karl felt the cheeks of his ass being pried apart by rough, calloused hands.

Karl eyes bulged with fear and trepidation. What the fuck? "Sho-Showanna! What're you doing?"

"Making sure you're sorry," she hissed in his ear. "Now, take a deep breath, baby. From what I hear, it hurts the first time you get fucked up the ass, but as long as you relax—"

"Oh, God!" cried Karl, feeling the thick head of Lewis' cock nudging against his anus. The lube allowed Lewis' fat dick ease inside Karl's rectum, stretching the tight, virgin opening. He winced, tried to move his arms, but the handcuffs still kept him secure, and his wife on his back prevented him from sitting up and pulling away.

"Oh, fuck, man, that's a tight ass," growled Lewis. "Ain't fucked an ass this tight since prison!"

Karl winced against the pain, the humiliation, forcing his eyes shut. An hour before, he had been in the throes of ecstasy. Now, he was feeling true pain and defilement as he was forced by his own wife to let a black man sodomize him. The intruder in his rectum was immense, splitting him in half it seemed. Karl could feel the throbbing of Lewis' cock, the way it pushed deep into his bowels. And finally, he felt the black man's heavy testicles pressing against his own.

Karl wasn't aware that his wife had slid off his back, not for a while, at any rate. He surrendered to the feel of the massive cock fucking him, and after a while, realized he was beginning to enjoy it. That added even more humiliation to the situation.

But the worst moment of all came when he opened his eyes to find Tracy, Kim, Miguel and his wife all sat upon the bed, watching, giggling, laughing and making crude comments. Even Kim, licking up Miguel's cum from Tracy's gargantuan tits, seemed to enjoy the demeaning situation Karl was in.

"Oh, yeah, gonna cum! Gonna cum! Take it, bitch! Take my black cum in your little white ass!" Lewis yelled, and Karl squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in the sheets, fighting down the revulsion he felt as the thick, warm splashes of semen exploded into his bowels.

***

Three Months Later . . . .

Showanna had a soft smile and a glow on her face as she stepped from the car. She hit the remote, activating the alarm, headed up the S-shaped walkway to the house. She could smell the aromas of cooking wafting out through the cracked open kitchen windows.

"Honey, I'm home!" she called as she stepped through the door.

Karl emerged from the kitchen, clad, as always, in a frilly pink apron and nothing else. He smiled upon his wife like a child happy to see his mother. "Showanna, baby," he said.

Showanna gave her husband a chaste kiss and gave him a patronizing pat on his cheek. Her husband beamed.

"What's for dinner?" asked Showanna as she set her purse on the little secretary by the door. "It smells wonderful."

"I thought I'd try a new recipe I got from Better Homes & Gardens," Karl offered eagerly, seeking Showanna's praise. "It's lemon-pepper tilapia."

"Mmm, sounds lovely." Showanna's smile remained as she shrugged off her blazer. Karl took it dutifully and hung it in the hall closet, then returned with a hopeful look on his face.

"You're such a good husband, Karly," Showanna said, touching his cheek.

"I only want to please you," he said emphatically.

"I know, dear," she said, then headed to the living room. She stepped out of her heels as Karl followed, then turned to him and hiked up her skirt. "I have a present for you."




The Loving Wife



Karl's eyes fell to his wife's panty-clad crotch. "You do?"

Showanna nodded. "Get on your knees, like a good boy."

Eagerly, Karl complied. He watched as Showanna pulled aside the gusset of her panties, revealing her soaked pussy. The labia were swollen and flushed; she had obviously been fucked recently. The aroma of pussy and spent semen flooded Karl's senses.

"I met Lewis after work today," Showanna said. "He gave me a real nice fucking, right there in the parking garage, over the hood of the car. I know how much you like his cum, baby, so I let him shoot it inside me."

Karl trembled with excitement, and smiled up at his loving wife. "Oh, baby, I love you so much . . . ." his words trailed off as he latched his mouth to her swollen red snatch and began sucking, moaning at the flavor of Lewis' semen as it flowed into his mouth.

Showanna sighed, rocking against Karl's face. "And you know what else, Karly?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, gripping his wife's ass as he devoured her pussy.

"Lewis is coming over later tonight. And so is Tracy."

Karl moaned into Showanna's pussy, and sucked harder, his prick growing to firmness beneath the pink apron. He no longer minded his role anymore; in fact, he reveled in it. After all, he was still married to the most wonderful, sexy, and loving wife in the whole world.

--End—

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