My Wife, My Slut

"I wanted to end it," she said finally. "I was getting tired of being his whore. He was starting to make me do things I really didn't like."

"You mean like fucking his friends?" I said, sarcastically. Claire's eyes widened at that. "I know all about what you did last night, and I have the pictures to prove it. I've been taping all of your phone calls for the past two weeks, so I know a lot about what you've been up to. I also know he was blackmailing you, and I know you wanted out. That's the only reason I'm even thinking about forgiving you and taking you back."

Claire got a hopeful look in her eyes at that, but I dashed those hopes real quick.

"But not right now," I said finally. "We may be able to get past this, but not right now. I'm not going to make any hasty decisions one way or another. My mind is in such a turmoil that if I decide anything now, I'll regret it. I need time to think things through rationally. We have three children to think about, and 19 years of marriage to consider as well. I'm not going to throw that away lightly, not like you have. But, hear me on this, Claire. If, by chance, I do decide to take you back, there will be some kind of punishment. I'm not just going to welcome you back and forget what I've seen the past two days, what I've heard the past two weeks. I don't know what it will be, but it will be something."

"Mike, I'll do anything, anything if you'll forgive me and let me be your wife again," she said. "Please?"

"We'll see. First, here's what we're going to do," I said. "I have some business to attend to tonight. I'll be gone about an hour. When I get back, I expect you to be gone. We need some time apart right now. I can't look at you without seeing you sandwiched between those guys, without seeing you with Billy Stewart's cum all over your body. Let me know where you'll be, and I'll be in touch. Claire, I love you, but right now I don't like you at all."

Then I left. I walked back to the rental car, drove to the motel room, packed my things, checked out and drove back to the house. When I returned, Claire was gone and the kids were back from the game. I sat them down and told them that some things had happened between their mom and dad, and that Mom had to go away for awhile, possibly for good. The boys were shaken, but Cindy almost had a serene look on her face.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with all that going out she's been doing lately, would it?" she said, when the boys went up to their rooms. I just nodded, so she continued. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't know how to approach you about it. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't want to interfere in your lives. I'm sorry, I should have spoken up. But sometimes, you're just so hard to get to. It's like you get in your own little world and tune everything else out. I know it frustrates Mom to no end."

"Then why didn't she say something?" I said, in exasperation.

"Daddy, she holds everything in," Cindy said. "She's so... so shy that she doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything, and she bottles everything up inside. And I think it finally just burst through in the worst possible way."

Then she hugged my neck, kissed my cheek and went up to her room, leaving me to brood in silence. Claire had written me a short note, so I opened it and read, "Mike, please understand how truly sorry I am that this has happened. I've been unspeakably selfish, and it may cost me the only thing that has any value in my life. I love you more than you will ever know, and I will live with the pain of knowing how badly I've hurt you for the rest of my life. I will do ANYTHING if you will forgive me. Love, Claire."

Again, there was that offer of anything if I would forgive her. That's when the images of my dad and the cigarettes kept floating through my mind, and almost before I really articulated what I was going to do, I was running over a list of people who'd be good for what I had in mind. In my anger, in my pain and in my thirst for revenge, I kept gnawing on one thing Claire had said.

"I wanted to see what other men were like."

Before long, I had a piece of notebook paper and was writing down the names of men I knew and could trust, men who were free of drugs and disease, men who could be counted on to keep their mouths shut.

I was going to give Claire more other men than she could handle. I was going to give her men, sex and cum until she was sick of them, just like my father did with the cigarettes. And then, hopefully, she'd never want another one besides me again.

Of course, there was the possibility that she wouldn't want me, either. Or, conversely, there was the possibility that she'd decide she liked being a slut so much that she'd make it her lifestyle. In either case, I told myself, I'd know one way or another, and then we could simply make a clean break of it.

I was simply around the bend over this, and I wasn't going to let it rest until I'd extracted my revenge, regardless of the cost.

The first thing I did the next morning was finish downloading the photos from the previous night into my computer. I put everything, the best photos and copy of the phone conversations between Claire and Billy onto a CD-ROM, then called Mr. Fenton, the president of Claire's bank and Billy's father-in-law. I told him I needed to meet with him that day on a matter of grave importance to his company.

We met at his office, and I laid it on the line. I showed him everything and told him that if Billy Stewart showed up for work at Claire's bank on Monday, I was taking my lawyer to the EEOC and we were filing a sexual harassment claim against the bank. Apparently, he believed me, because Billy Stewart never came back to the bank. As far as I know at this point, he's vanished. Good riddance.

Later that Saturday, I sat down with my best friend Newt to drink a few beers and watch some football. I told him what was going on with Claire and what I was considering as her punishment in the event I decided to take her back. Newt and I had lined up next to each other on the football team, me at tight end and him at right tackle, and we've watched each other's back ever since. He's also an incorrigible ladies' man who has been married twice, and he was hip to what I had planned.

"You know, I never would have expected it from Claire," Newt said. "She's always been so quiet and nice. But... I hope you don't mind me saying this, brother, but I've always thought she was hot, and if you weren't my best friend, I'd have made a play for her a long time ago."

The upshot was, he would help me organize Claire's gangbang, if that's what I decided to do. And over the course of the next week I mulled it over. The truth is, I wanted her back. I still loved her and I still needed her, both as wife and mother. I quickly found out that running a house with three teenagers (well, two teens and one almost-teen) was no day in the park for a single man with a business to run, and I found myself calling Claire both at work and at her sister's, where she was staying, asking about this and that.

And yet, every time I said to myself that I wanted her back, I'd think about what she had done, and my anger and pain would flare up. In my state of mind, I couldn't just let her come back, everything forgiven like nothing had ever happened. So I made up my mind that she would have to make restitution if she was to come back. She had said she would do anything if I would forgive her, and anything is what she would have to do to earn her way back into my good graces. I would have my revenge, then we would see where we were.

So Newt and I spent the next three weeks setting it up. I stopped by to the see the old man at the motel, and told him that the wife I'd been investigating had agreed to do, "a party," if I would keep her affair a secret from her husband, and I wanted to reserve Room 123 for the first Saturday night in October. We contacted some 35 friends and acquaintances, and 27 indicated they'd come. That wasn't enough for me, so Newt found a local swinger's website, and we put up a personal ad.

"SLUT WIFE," was the header, and the text read, "Cheating wife needs a HARD lesson. ISO approx. 35 men 21-and-over for gangbang. Prefer 7-inches-plus, will consider fat 6-inchers. MUST be disease-free. Interested candidates should come to the Best Western Exit 125, Room 112, 9-25 from 6 p.m. until midnight. Bring current valid DL and recent blood test results."

We ended up with almost 150 men of all ages. About half, we rejected out of hand for one reason or another. Either we didn't like their looks, they didn't have the right cock size or their blood work was questionable. We finally ended up with 33 who were clean, reasonably sober fellows with the kind of equipment we needed.

We contacted them by e-mail that read, "Congratulations, you have been chosen to participate in slut wife's lesson. Party starts 10 p.m. next Saturday at the Kings Inn, Room 123. Beer and bottled water will be provided, no hard liquor, please. As for drugs, we can't control what you do before you arrive, but any attempt to consume illegal substances on the premises will result in immediate expulsion and possible arrest. Also, any rowdy behavior will be treated in like fashion. We will have two off-duty policemen on hand to enforce these rules. We look forward to seeing you Saturday."

Before I sent out the e-mail, though, I had to make certain we were going to have a party. I called Claire and asked her to meet me for dinner on Tuesday. I was waiting in the bar when she arrived, and I couldn't help it; my heart did cartwheels. Although we had talked on the phone a number of times over the previous three weeks, we hadn't seen each other since the night she left. She had dressed up a little and done her makeup, and she looked good.

She did not, however, look well. She appeared a little wan and it looked like she'd lost a little weight, like she wasn't eating or sleeping real well. Funny thing, she said the same thing about me, and I realized that I hadn't slept a night through in weeks, and that my jeans were just a little looser than before. I was OK during the day when I had work to keep me occupied, but at night, alone in bed, I could feel the weight of my pain, my anger, my responsibilities and my thirst for revenge.

We had a few drinks and talked about how things were going, then, after dinner, I looked across the table at my wife. This was a critical moment, and we were walking a fine line. I wanted her to be agreeable to what I had planned, but not too eager, and I wanted to be forceful, but not too pushy.

"Claire, can I ask you something?" I asked. She nodded, so I went on. "Did you enjoy being Billy's slut? Because it sure seemed like it to me."

"Mike, I..." she began, hesitantly. "It took awhile, a lot of wine usually, to get me to the point where I could enjoy sex like that. But once I got there, once he got me drunk and started working on my libido, yes, I enjoyed it. I was like a kid in a candy store, enjoying all these new sensations, all these new experiences. With you and me, sex was nice and loving, but with him, it was wicked and mindless. He used me, and for the first time in my life, I got into that."

"When I saw you that night at the motel, with him and his friend, had you done anything like that before?" I asked carefully. Claire looked down at the table, like she was ashamed.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Remember the Saturday night when I stayed out almost all night, and we had a big fight? You tried to feel in my pants for cum, I guess, and I was frantic not to let you, because then you would have known what I'd done. Billy invited three of his friends to join us, and they all fucked me, more than once. The second time, they took turns filling me at the same time, and I couldn't stop cumming. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. But when I got home, sobered up a little bit and saw the hurt on your face, it broke me. I realized that I was becoming a slave to his perverted fantasies, that he was sucking me into something I really didn't want."

I nodded, ignoring my cock, which was stiffening in my pants at the image Claire had painted. I then told her about the incident with my dad and the cigarettes, and that afterward I'd never wanted another one. Claire looked at me funny as I got to the heart of the story. I think she knew where I was going.

"Claire, I've about decided that I want you back," I said. "In spite of what you did, I still love you, and I still need you. But I still can't get around what you did. My pain and my anger has festered up inside me to the point where I need revenge of some sort, and I think the way for me to lance this boil on my heart and for you to get all this 'other men' business out of your system is to take my dad's cure for smoking and apply it to your new sex life."

"What are you saying, Mike?" she said softly. "What do I have to do?"

"You have to be my slut, for one night," I said. "In order for me to take you back, you have to do whatever I tell you to do, suck whoever I tell you to suck, and fuck whoever I tell you to fuck. You're going to get an overdose of other men's cocks, an overdose of cum, until, hopefully, you're sick of them. Then, and only then, can we purge ourselves of this mess and get on with rebuilding our relationship."

"You're asking a lot," she whispered.

"I know, but you said you'd do anything if I would forgive you," I said. Claire looked down at her hands, and twisted her wedding ring around as she mulled over my proposal. It was a devil's bargain, and she knew it. But she wanted to come back to me so badly, wanted to try to get things back to where they were before, that I knew she'd say yes. I could see it in her eyes.

"Just one night?" she said.

"One night," I said, nodding my head. "We'll start about 6 o'clock in the evening, and go as long as you hold up, for no more than 12 hours, or until I think you've had enough."

"Mike, I don't want to get hurt doing this," she said.

"Claire, you know I'd never do anything to hurt you physically," I said. "If I had wanted to harm you, I would have done it the night I caught you in my bed with Billy Stewart. I promise, anyone who cums in you will be screened, both for behavior and for clean blood work. There won't be anything terribly kinky, no bondage or pain or anything like that. Just sex, and lots of it. I'll make every effort to make it as pleasurable as possible for everyone."

"I did say I'd do anything," she said, a wry smile creasing her face. "Who knows, I might enjoy completely letting myself go for one night. OK, I'll do it, but you had better keep your word."

So it was done. As we left the restaurant, we hugged again, and this time we kissed, and even slipped each other some tongue.

"Mike, I love you, and I trust you," she said. "I know I betrayed you by cheating with Billy. Please don't betray me by letting something bad happen to me."

Claire was already at the house when I got home from work around noon that Saturday. Usually on Saturday, I closed the store at 2 p.m., but about a year ago, I had hired a young man to be my assistant, and since the business with my wife had arisen, I'd given him more responsibility.

I showered and dressed, then packed the small bag of extras I planned to take along. We left the house around 2 o'clock to get some dinner and get ready for the big night. Claire kind of arched her eyes when she saw that I had borrowed Newt's convertible for us to drive around in.

We ate a nice dinner, although we were both too nervous for a big meal. I insisted that Claire have a spinach salad, and I had pasta. She also had four glasses of wine, and was starting to get tipsy when we left the restaurant around 4:15. After a stop at a liquor store for two bottles of her favored chilled white wine, we headed across town to the motel. It was a perfect day for an orgy, hot and muggy - sultry, I believe you'd call it. A cold front was expected to come in sometime overnight, but I hoped it would hold off until morning.

Claire sort of caught her breath when she saw me pull into the King's Inn, but I just looked at her with a serious look. We got the room key from the woman working the desk, and proceeded to Room 123. We both stood at the door for just a second before I put the key in. I think if she had said right then that she didn't want to go through with it, I'd have let her off the hook. But she didn't, and we went inside to get ready.

The first thing I wanted Claire to do was get cleaned up, inside and out. That was one reason for the salad I'd had her eat, to give her some roughage to help clear her bowels. From the special bag I'd brought, I pulled out a Fleet's enema and told her to go into the bathroom and use it. She gave me a querulous look, so I told her how things were going to go.

"Claire, your ass is going to get fucked tonight," I said. "By me and a lot of others. I want you clean as a whistle up in there. Just do it."

She wasn't very happy, but she took the box and retreated to the bathroom. I think that was the point where it finally sank in to her that this was going to happen, that I was serious about treating her like a slut. As she sat on the stool doing her business, I opened a bottle of wine and poured some into one of the plastic glasses. I knocked on the bathroom door and handed it over, telling her not to get into the shower just yet.

When she was finished with the enema, she called me in, and asked me what I wanted. I poured her another glass of wine, then I brought out a small pair of scissors and one of these new-type women's shavers. I ordered Claire to spread her legs, and when she did, I began to trim back her pubic hair. She has a thick, black bush to match her thick, dark hair, and while I didn't want it shaved, I did want it trimmed, quite a bit. I cut it back short, shaved it away from her legs, then pronounced her ready to shower.

While Claire was in the shower, Newt showed up with two large coolers, one with beer and one with water and sodas. He also had a bag with some light snacks, chips and stuff. He gave me a big grin as he left, saying he'd be back a little before 10. After finishing her shower and drying off good, I showed Claire some of the particulars of her make-up. I wanted her done up heavily, with bright red lipstick and nail polish.

I was stunned when she came out of the bathroom all made up. She struck a sexy pose and asked how she looked. In truth, she looked like a $200 hooker, but I didn't say that. She seemed more relaxed, more excited about what we were going to do. I walked up to her, took her into my arms and kissed her deeply. I could feel my cock growing in my jeans, and I was tempted to throw her on the bed and get a quickie.

But I had something else I wanted to do, and that would have to wait. So I told her to sit in the chair and open her legs for me.

"Open up your pussy for me," I ordered, and she complied without hesitation. She held her well-exposed lips open with two fingers for me to inspect her pink insides, which were already glistening with her dew. I dropped to my knees and held her legs open. I kept my mouth just inches from her pussy and softly blew on it. Claire groaned heavily and I could actually see the moisture welling up from inside her cunt. Up and down her slit I blew on her until suddenly, without warning, I dropped my lips to her pussy and swiped my tongue briskly up her furrow.

"Ayyyyyy, God!" she exclaimed as I began to lick, suck and nibble on her pussy. I speared her depths with my tongue, took her swollen clit between my teeth, used my lips to vacuum her labia, I did it all. I worked her over with my mouth, making a meal out of my wife's hot cunt. As I glanced up, I saw her head was thrown back and she was twisting her nipples with her fingers. When she started in with the squeals, moans and cries, and began humping my face, I suddenly pulled away and stood up.