tagNonConsent/ReluctanceBecoming a Slut Wife: Brenda

Becoming a Slut Wife: Brenda

byJust Plain Bob©

She felt odd. People were talking all around her, but she wasn't hearing what they were saying. A waiter came by and filled her glass again. Under the table she felt a hand stroking her leg. Something was wrong, but what? She closed her eyes and tried to think. There was someone she needed to see; someone she needed to talk to. The hand was stroking her thigh. She shook her head to try and clear it and the room seemed to revolve, to turn in slow motion. She tried to stand up and fell against someone. She felt her jacket being placed on her shoulders. She felt herself being moved through the room and then she was in a car and someone was stroking her body. She felt hands on her tits; fingers working on her pussy and it felt good. A tongue snaked its way into her mouth and she wondered if she should return the kiss and then she sent her tongue searching. She felt her hand being placed on something and she looked down and saw an erect penis and as the tongue in her mouth worked around her tongue she felt a hand on her wrist and the hand began to move her hand up and down. She felt strange, almost like she had no strength to either fight against or accept what was happening to her. The fingers in her pussy and the tongue in her mouth were insistent and she began to feel warmth flood her body. She glanced down and saw her hand stroking the penis. Why did she have her hand on a penis, and why was she stroking it. And then she was in a house. Her house? No, she didn't think so. A light came on and she saw the bed. Yes! Rest, that's what I need, rest, and then she moved to the bed and fell on it. She felt something tugging at her hips and then she felt nothing at all.

I couldn't quite believe my eyes when I saw her across the room. It had been five years since I'd last seen her and the hatred that I'd thought that I'd finally buried surged to the surface again. I watched as she moved across the room and there was something odd about her movements and then I understood - she was drunk. A germ of an idea - a light bulb going off over my head - I turned to my companion, "Mason, how would you like to do me a huge favor."

"Sure Mike, what do you want?"

"See that woman over there, the one in the silver cocktail dress? She is already drunk, but I want you to move in on her and get her even drunker. I want you to get her so blitzed that she won't know who she is or where she is and then we are going to have some fun with her."

I watched Mason as he made his way over to the woman, the woman who five years ago had been my wife, and I prayed, really and truly prayed that he would be successful in what I had asked him to do. If things worked out as well as I hoped by this time tomorrow she would be ruined.

I remembered it almost as if it had happened yesterday. I had come home from work to find Brenda packing suitcases. We'd had a rather nasty argument the night before over money, specifically our lack of it, but I didn't think it had been that bad. I asked her what she was doing and she said she was leaving me.

"You are nothing but a loser Mike. You have no prospects for ever being better than you are right now; you are boring as hell and you are not worth a shit in bed. I see no earthly reason for staying with you."

The divorce cost me everything that I had and for a year I walked around feeling sorry for myself and becoming a drunk. During that year she remarried and her new husband was one of the upwardly mobile yuppies who was making a name for himself in business and social circles. During that same year my best friend George decided to do something for me that I didn't seem to want to do for myself. He forced me to come back to the living; made me by the force of his will, not mine, give up drinking and go back to having a life. I did however get the last laugh where Brenda was concerned. In an ironic twist of fate the woman who left me for someone else who could give her all the material things she wanted got to pick up the paper and read about her ex-husband winning 17.6 million dollars in the state lottery. To say that my life got better would be an understatement. I had every thing that I wanted, but I didn't have what I most needed - a way to make Brenda pay for what she'd done.

Until now.

I watched as Mason maneuvered Brenda into the back seat of the limo and then I climbed in front and sat with George. On the way to the house I watched as Mason worked her tits out of her dress and began to work his fingers into her pussy. When he french kissed her and then put her hand on his cock I almost pissed my pants with excitement because it looked like my plan was going to work. I turned to George who was playing chauffeur that night and asked him, "Would you like a taste of that George?"

He grinned and said, "Yes sir, I certainly would."

I smiled as I pictured the look on Brenda's husband's face as he looked at a picture of George's coal black body on top of his lily-white wife. When we got home George helped Mason carry Brenda up to the bedroom. She fell on the bed and I told them to strip her, "Leave the six hundred dollar Manolo high heels on her, but take everything else off."

While they were peeling Brenda I went and got my digital camera. I love that little sucker. You could take a picture, walk over to the computer, plug into a USB port and in less that two minutes have a print coming off the printer. I showed Mason how to operate the camera and then I stripped and went over to Brenda. I didn't want there to be any doubt about who was behind what was being done to her. I had several pictures taken with my cock in various orifices all the while smiling for the camera and then it was my turn to take the pictures. The first twenty or thirty were all posed photos of George and Mason with their dicks in interesting places. I made sure that they all faced away from the camera while making equally sure that Brenda was always looking into it. Drunk enough to be in a semi-stupor, but not drunk enough to pass out, Brenda was the perfect subject - eyes wide open and looking straight into the camera. When I had all the posed shots I wanted I said, "All right guys, get your fill."

As George buried his black pole in Brenda and started fucking her I went into the bathroom and got the smelling salts out of the first aid kit. Back in the bedroom I listened to the little grunts made by Brenda as George pounded into her cunt. I gave the smelling salts to Mason and told him to wait until I got into position with the camera and then to break the smelling salts under Brenda's nose. When I gave the signal he broke the capsule and Brenda's eye's shot wide open, looking up at George and I took the picture. For the rest of the night I moved around the room and took photo after photo as Mason and George fucked Brenda in every way possible. They both fucked her cunt, they both shot loads down her throat, and they both fucked her in her ass (something that she had never allowed me to do) and the best part of it was that after the first hour or so Brenda began to get with it. She was half in and half out of it, but to the camera she looked like she was having a great time. I got some great shots of George in her ass while Mason stuffed her cunt and then a couple more when they switched.

I put the camera down and joined them on the bed. I pulled Brenda's face onto my cock and began to fuck her face. Here eyes were on my face and I could see that through her alcoholic fog she had a vague recollection of who I was. I smiled down at her, "Yes, you fucking cunt, you've had this cock in your mouth before, but tonight there is a difference. Before, you would not let me cum in your mouth, but tonight will be different; tonight you get to taste me for the first time."

I gripped her head and emptied myself into her mouth and then held her head while she choked, gulped and swallowed. I pulled my cock out of her mouth and shot the last gob of cum onto her face just above her nose. I got the camera and got that picture - the cum running down her cheek from just above the nose.

"Okay boys, it's time to get her home. Do her one more time if you want, but then we need to get her dressed."

They did want her one more time and I got a couple of more pictures. I got the smelling salts again and had George stick his cock in her mouth. When Mason broke the capsule and Brenda's eyes opened wide she was looking straight up into George's face with her red lips wrapped around his dark brown cock. It was a beautiful shot and one that would cause her husband to have a fit. I'd never met a yuppie yet who wasn't a closet racist and the black and white photos were going to drive him nuts. When George and Mason were done with her I tossed Brenda her clothes.

"Run her home George. If you decide to fuck her one more time try not to stain the seat."

Mason and George dressed her and then they led her from the room. They did fuck her one more time and then they put her out of the limo on the sidewalk in front of her house, honked the horn half a dozen times and then drove off leaving her standing there with cum running down her legs.

On Monday I sent a FedEx package with all the photos I'd taken to her husband at his place of business and then, need for revenge satisfied, I promptly forgot all about it. Three days later, as George and I were pulling the engine out of a 41' Ford that we were trying to restore, a BMW convertible pulled up in the driveway and Brenda and a man got out. I'd never seen him in person, but I recognized his picture - it was Brenda's husband and I guessed that he wanted to talk to me. I wiped the grease off my hands and tossed the rag down.

"If he gets hostile George, stay out of it. I owe him that much. He wasn't the one who fucked over me."

I walked out of the garage to meet him (I totally ignored Brenda) and I said, "What can I do for you?"

He looked a little nervous, but then said, "Actually, it's your man we would like to talk to."

I almost laughed at him when he said that. My relationship with George goes way back. He was the best friend that I'd ever had. To give some idea of our relationship you only had to look at music. I might have been Joe SixPack, but I loved classical music and I had season tickets to the symphony. George hated most classical music, but he loved the opera and I had given him season tickets for his birthday. The only reason I owned a limo was so I could go to the symphony in style. The rest of the time I drove a late model pick up truck. Anyway, when I go to the symphony George dresses up as a chauffeur and he drives me. When George goes to the opera I dress up and drive him. But of course Brenda's husband didn't know this so when he asked if he could speak to my man I said, "You mean George?" and I pointed back to the garage, "or Mason?"

"The black chap."

"Well, George is not my man. He is my driver, my bodyguard, and my dishwasher when I cook, but then again, I'm his dishwasher when he cooks, but most of all George is my friend. Why do you need to talk to him?"

"Well, it's rather personal."

"Don't care. He's on the clock right now and if you're going to talk to him on my time I want to know what it is about. Otherwise give me a number where he can reach you and I'll see that he gets it."

He looked undecided and then Brenda spoke up, "Oh for Christ's sake Brian, tell him. He set the whole thing up to begin with so you aren't going to shock him."

When Brian still didn't speak Brenda said, "Your little scheme didn't work Mike. His biggest fantasy has always been to see me with another man, preferably black, and I've always refused. Now that you made it happen anyway I don't see any sense in fighting it anymore. He wants to know if George would be willing to do it again with Brian watching."

I looked at Brian, "Is that right?" Brian nodded a yes. I looked from him to Brenda and then back at him and then I stepped aside and waved them toward the garage. Brian headed up the drive, but Brenda stayed behind.

"I'm sorry your scheme didn't work out Mike. Oh, he did get mad when he got the pictures, but it was only because he wasn't there to watch. I guess you will have to find some other way to get your revenge."

I shrugged and said, "I got out of it what I wanted."

"What was that?"

"Just some personal satisfaction; just enough to kill the hate and ease my mind a bit."

"Oh? And what was that?"

"Doesn't matter Brenda" and I headed up the drive to the garage. When I got there George said, "How do you feel about this idea Mike?" I shook my head and said, "I'm not in this George. This is between you and them."

George gave me a big smile and said, "Oh no baby, we are a team. If it gets done it will be by you and me."

I said to Brian, "You are going to have a hard time selling that to your bride. As I remember it her exact words to me were "You're not worth a shit in bed Mike."

Brian laughed and said, "What people say when they are mad is not necessarily the truth. More than once before we were married she wanted to go back to you, but you would never answer the phone to talk to her. For which by the way I thank you. And for your information that was before you suddenly got rich. I'll take care of it.

Fifteen minutes later, in the same bedroom where my so called revenge plot took place, George and I were busy with Brenda while Brian sat next to the bed and watched. I was sitting on the bed and Brenda was sucking my cock while George was fucking her from behind. Just before Brenda swallowed my dick she looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry I never swallowed your cum when we were married. The other night I found out that I like the taste so lets do it again."

I looked up at her and she grinned, "Toward the end I wasn't as near out of it as you guys thought I was, but that's our little secret from Brian, okay?"

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