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Subject: {ASSM} C and C (slut wife, voy, inter, F/M+) Part I of III: The Honeymoon's Over
Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2000 23:10:17 -0400
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Standard Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy. It takes place in a world
with no HIV, HPV, or other STD's, a place where all birth control is 100%
effective. That is not the world we live in and engaging in the activities
described herein can seriously screw up your life or even kill you. Also,
if you are under age 21 or don't like dirty stories, then go away. 'Nuff
said.
Comments welcome to above email address (remove ".spamenot").
C&C (slut wife, voy, inter, F/M+) Part I of III: The Honeymoon's Over
So I married a slut. The details of that are described in "One Bride
for Seven 'Brothers'" where on our wedding day my wife fucked seven black
porno stars in the very church we were married. But we had made a deal
that for the month-long honeymoon she had to be faithful to me. I was
hoping the gangbang would satiate her for a while (I certainly couldn't
keep up with her sexual needs alone). I was wrong. We'd had sex once a
day, at least, every day. You wouldn't think you could get tired making
love to a beautiful woman but to Carly sex isn't a ten minute session of
hide the salami. Sex for Carly is one or two hours of hard work. Still
she wanted more than what I could give her. She wanted to be fucked by
strangers, to be the total slut she is. By the time we took the boat from
the private island I had rented to the island with the airport with the
private jet I'd chartered, Carly was ready to fuck a duck.
Let me tell you a little about my slut wife. She is tall, about 5'10"
and works out just enough to tone. Her legs are thin, long, but not too
skinny. She has long red hair and blue eyes and just a couple of cute
freckles on her nose. Her breasts are full with nice nipples and her ass
could launch a thousand wet dreams.
Somewhere over Iowa she leaned over and asked me, "When is the honeymoon
over."
I could tell she was eyeing the steward, excuse me, male "flight
attendant" the charter company had provided.
"When I carry you over the threshold of our house," I said.
Carly pouted. I had to smile. Now I was torturing her, for a change.
"We could join the 'Mile High Club,'" she whispered in my ear.
Unfortunately, the small jet didn't provide much privacy. Plus the flight
attendant, the pilots, all knew who I was and this slut wife thing was not
going to work if Carly (and I) weren't discrete.
When the limousine service's car dropped us off in front of my house (a
big Tudor style monstrosity in an exclusive, gated community) I opened the
door, picked Carly up, carried her over the threshold, and said, "The
honeymoon is now over."
We were so tired from traveling all day I let the household staff bring
in the luggage and Carly and I went to bed. For the first night in our
marriage, we didn't have sex.
I woke up the next morning alone in the bed. I looked at my watch; it
was almost noon. After cleaning up I went downstairs. I couldn't find
Carly. Eventually I found the cook, a big Swedish matron named (I kid you
not) Helga, in the kitchen.
"Helga, have you seen Mrs. Evans?"
"Ya, she left earlier this morning in her car." Carly had a Miata; I was
going to try to get her to let me buy her an Z3 or a Boxter.
"Did she say were she was going?"
"No, sir."
Damn. I hadn't gotten her a cell phone yet. But I had an idea. I
picked up the kitchen phone and dialed her apartment (she hadn't gotten rid
of it yet). Maybe she went over to get some of her stuff. But no luck,
the phone rang and rang but no one picked it up.
I had a pretty good idea were she was. She was out getting fucked.
When she hadn't come back by five that evening I got worried. At
midnight I was almost panicked. Somehow I slept some during the night.
Early the next morning she still wasn't back. I made some excuse to
household staff (who must have thought my new bride had ran away) and took
the household car, a Ford Taurus station wagon (the M5 is too conspicuous
and the Viper is like driving a parade float . . . with Cindy Crawford and
Tyra Banks on it . . . naked). I couldn't call the police. What if they
found her and she was fucking someone? It'd get in the papers. But what
if she was dead? It'd still get in the papers. I could only think one
thing to do. She told me she caught taxis at hospitals because they were
always there so I drove to the nearest one. And she was right. There were
three lined up by the front door. I drove through the parking lot looking
for her Miata. I didn't find it so I went to another hospital. Wasn't
there, either, and I was starting to get w! ! orried. Finally, at the
third
I had a picture of Carly so I showed it to the two taxi drivers in front
of the hospital. Neither one recognized her. So I waited. Because it was
hot out I waited in the lobby, ignoring the stares of the receptionists.
When a new taxi arrived I would ask that driver if he'd seen Carly. None
had. I was there until nearly noon when another taxi pulled up that I
didn't recognize. I was about to go outside to show the driver Carly's
picture when she got out of it. She was wearing a seedy looking trench
coat. She walked toward the parking lot. When she stepped her long legs
would extend out of the front opening of the coat. I could see she was
wearing white high heels, white hose (one with a big run), and little
turndown socks. I never saw a hint of a skirt so she was either not
wearing one or it was very short.
She got in the Miata and drove out of the parking lot after paying the
attendant. I ran, got in the station wagon, paid the attendant with a $50
for a $10 fee (didn't want to wait for the change) and floored it. I hoped
Carly wouldn't know the way home as well as I did but I also didn't want to
pass her. I took side streets at felonious velocities. When I reached the
gate the guard waved me through, recognizing the car. But I stopped.
"Has Mrs. Evans come through, yet?"
"No, sir."
"Good," and I floored it again. I'd probably get a nasty letter from
the homeowners association for my speed but I didn't care. However, there
was no need to rush: I got there a full hour ahead of Carly. When she
walked in the door I was standing in the foyer, my arms akimbo.
Carly just looked at me. She looked totally different than how I'd seen
her at the hospital. She was dressed in expensive khaki slacks and a nice
silk blouse. She had a tiny little purse that probably cost $1,000 and
some subtle but expensive jewelry I'd given her. Her hair and make-up were
prefect. She looked every bit the proper trophy wife.
Trying to control my anger I said, "Where have you been?"
She looked confused. "The honeymoon is over."
"I know," I said, "but you've been gone for a full day."
Just then the housekeeper, a little Puerto Rican woman walked in. Carly
said, "Let's discuss this upstairs."
I followed her up the stairs and into our bedroom. We walked in and I
closed the door behind us.
"James," she said softly, "one month was too long. I'm sorry, I had to
get fucked."
"I'm not mad about that," I said. I'd accepted that my wife was a slut.
In a way, I liked it. "But you can't just leave me to wonder if you're
dead somewhere."
She nodded. "You're right. And I'm sorry."
"Listen," I said. "I have an idea. I'll get us both cell phones. I
want you to call me twice a day, unless we're together of course. Once at
ten AM and once at ten PM. All you have to do is let me know you're all
right. I'll even get you a phone with an alarm to remind you. Will you do
that?"
Carly rushed into my arms and kissed me. "Of course I will." She tasted
like cum
"Now," I looked at her. "Tell me about it."
"Huh?"
"When I agreed to let you be a slut you promised to tell me every
detail."
Carly smiled. "Yes, I know. I just figured you were still mad." She
sat one the bed and I sat in one of the room's chairs.
"We've got to do something," she began, "about the household help. I
had to go to my apartment to change."
"Change into what?" I interrupted.
She dug into the purse and handed me a Polaroid. "This."
Looking at the photo my knees almost buckled with desire. It was a
picture of her. She was laying on a bed with a cheap, pink bedspread and
smiling at the camera. She was wearing a white blouse with a little black
ribbon tied in a bow like a tie. She had on a gray plaid skirt that was
incredibly short. It didn't matter, though, it was pushed up around her
hips exposing her cunt. She had on white thigh-high stockings (one with
the aforementioned run in it) and white, turn-down socks and white high
heels.
"My 'schoolgirl' outfit," Carly explained.
But it wasn't the outfit so much as how she looked. Her face and hair
were covered in cum, some dried, some fresh. Her cunt had cum leaking out
of it and there was dried cum on her pubic hair and thighs. The stockings
and skirt were also stained with cum. She looked like a well-used slut
schoolgirl.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I left yesterday morning and went to my apartment and changed into that
outfit," as she spoke she sat on the bed. I sat in the chair by the
fireplace. "Then I went to a hospital and caught a taxi to a bar." I
didn't mention I knew about the hospital. "I asked the driver to wait; I
didn't think I'd be long. The bar was serving lunch to a workday crowd.
Lots of men, no women. They looked at me as if I were some erotic space
alien. I sat down at the bar letting my skirt ride up and asked for a
Shirley Temple."
"You didn't?" I asked.
She nodded and smiled. "The bartender asked for my I.D. I told him I
didn't have one and he said I'd have to leave. 'Are you sure you want me
to leave?' I asked him and I climbed up on the bar, swung my legs over so
he could see up my skirt to my white, silk panties, dropped behind the bar
on my knees and started massaging his cock through his pants. He just
grinned at me so I unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. I don't
know when the last time this guy bathed but he smelled awful but in the
mood I was in, that was only a turn-on.
"I sucked his cock down and started giving him head. The bar got quiet
and I realized we soon had an audience peering over the bar. I really got
into that so I gave him a long, slow blowjob. The audience started
cheering me on. Finally I felt his cock get stiffer and start to throb so
I pulled him out of my mouth and let him come all over my face."
By this time I had my cock out and was masturbating. Carly had unzipped
her pants and had her hand in her panties.
"The crowd cheered. I smiled and said, 'Anyone else?' Well, that's all
it took. I had all of them lined up and I sucked them all off. Fifty men
must have come on my face. It was in my eyes, my hair, dripping off my
chin. But nobody fucked me."
"Poor girl," I said sarcastically and stood up and pushed her on the
bed. I started to remove her pants as she continued.
"I used a bar towel to clean up a bit and decided to leave to find
someone to fuck me. As I was walking out I noticed the taxi driver
standing by the door. He looked at me and I knew he'd seen everything.
"'I need cock,' I said to him."
By now I had Carly naked from the waist down and I could see her cunt
was leaking cum despite having obviously taken a shower at her apartment. I
tentatively started licking her clit, trying very hard not to lap up any of
the strange men's cum.
Carly continued with her story but she was starting to breath hard; she
was apparently enjoying my ministrations on her clit. "He smiled. 'Fix
your face and I can get you more cock than you can handle,' he said.
"'Got a mirror in the car?' I asked. He nodded and so we went to the
taxi. We drove to a seedy looking hotel. He waited while I put my makeup
back on. I used a comb to try to make my hair look less full of cum.
"'What is this place?' I asked him.
"'Where I live,' he said. 'Lots of horny, single guys.'
"He took me up to his apartment. It was a one-room studio with an old
bed with metal headboard and footboard. I thought maybe he was going to
fuck me but he had other ideas. He told me to wait and he left. A few
minutes later he walked in with a young, pimply kid. He looked about 17.
The kid looked me over like I was a piece of meat.
"'How much?' the kid asked.
I stopped licking her to look at her face. "'How much'?" I asked.
"Yes," Carly said, her eyes ablaze, "apparently he was planning on
whoring me out."
"Shit," I whispered. So now I apparently have a slut whore wife. I
went back to licking her growing clit.
"'Twenty-five for a blow job,'" Carly continued with her narration,
"'Fifty for a straight fuck, one hundred for anal.' Then he looked at me
and said, 'You do do anal, don't you?' I could only nod I was so surprised.
"'I only got thirty,' the kid said.
"'For thirty you can come on my face,' I said. The kid's eyes grew wide
and he dug in his pocket and pulled out a wad of dirty bills. He started
to give them to me by the driver took them. He walked out but said over
his shoulder, 'Ya got fifteen minutes. Enjoy!'
Carly had been breathing harder as I worked on her clit. Finally she
pushed my head down toward her cunt and I knew what she wanted. She likes
me to put my tongue up her cunt. But I'd never done it when it was full of
semen. At first I resisted but she pushed harder and my nose ended up
dipping in the cum dripping our of her vagina. After that, I figured I was
in for it so I started licking the cum out of her.
"The kid was a little nervous," she went on, "so I told him to relax and
said 'Let me take care of everything.' I got down on my knees in front of
him. He seemed to like that. I undid his jeans and pushed them to his
ankles. Then I lowered his underwear and there was the nicest young cock
I'd seen in ages. It was hard as a rock. I touched it with my hand and
the kid groaned and his knees seemed to give a little. 'Easy there, big
fella,' I said. I took his cock in my mouth and almost immediately he
came. I pulled out and let him come on my face. He looked so happy."
I was still licking up and down her vulva as she kept talking. "The kid
left and almost immediately another man came in with the driver. He was
older, like fifty. He paid the driver fifty dollar and again he gave us
fifteen minutes. I helped the man undress and I slipped off my panties - I
never saw them again - and lay on the bed. The man crawled on top of me
and fucked me quick. He asked me if there was cum on my face and I said,
'Yes.' With that he started coming inside me."
That was it; I had to fuck my slut whore of a wife. I climbed on top of
her, much as I imagined the old man doing, and shoved my cock into her very
wet cunt.
Carly groaned as I entered her. But she kept talking. "It went on like
that for hours. I got fucked so many times I lost count. I got fucked up
the ass at least five times. Some of them came in me, some on me. I slept
between tricks. Once I woke up and the pimply kid was fucking me. He must
have found more money. Somebody took some pictures of me. They left me
the one I showed you. I was covered in cum and it was leaking from my cunt
and ass.
"Finally the driver walked in and handed me a wad of bills.
"'What's this?' I asked?
"'Your share,' he said. 'Fifty percent. You've fucked out the entire
place.'
Hearing those words I came with a vengeance. Carly came too and the
story was paused as we mutually orgasmed. A long time later I lay beside
her on the bed holding her.
"'Take me home,' I said," she continued, "really meaning the hospital
where my car was. He nodded. In the taxi I counted the money. I had
almost a thousand dollars. I saw a Goodwill store and told the driver to
stop. He did and I went inside and bought a trench coat so I could walk to
my car at the hospital without being a spectacle. I paid the thousand
dollars for it. I don't know what the old lady behind the counter thought
and I don't care. The driver dropped me off and I drove to my apartment
and changed."
I tried to calculate it out. She made about $1,000 whoring for a taxi
driver. If there were 50% straight fuck at $50 a pop, about 50% oral at
$25 a pop, and five anal, how many men had used my wife, my beautiful
trophy wife, as their fuck toy. Let's see, I thought, "x" times 25 plus
"y" times 50 plus five times 75 equals 2000 where "x" is the number of
blowjobs and "y" is the number of straight fucks. And "x" plus "y" plus
five equals the number of men. Well, I had two equations but three
unknowns and after my nearly sleepless night and that great fuck, I just
fell asleep.
Continued in Part II of C&C.
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