Victims Ch. 01

Chapter 1: Gullible Husband

Author's Note: This chapter is the first of three of approximately equal length. The ensemble is primarily a tale of revenge. Sexuality is first used to corrupt and destroy a marriage, then is used to corrupt and enslave a group of women, and is finally used as a weapon of vengeance. Clearly it is on the dark side!

TINY TITTIES

The first time I saw Jeanie she was wearing a one-piece bathing suit, and my first thought was, "Man! Except for those dinky tits, she has an incredible body!" She was pretty, even beautiful by most standards, and the rest of her body was incredibly, seductively, overwhelmingly feminine. But Nature had clearly cheated her in the boob area, and her tiny (although firm and perky) breasts looked like they belonged on a girl just entering puberty.

I'm really more of a leg man, so I really didn't mind. But Jeannie did. She was incredibly self-conscious about her breasts, and she wore padded bras to compensate. As our relationship began to evolve, I finally broke through her defenses. One summer night we removed our T-shirts and traded bare-skin back rubs. She, of course, kept her bra on. Before she could stop me, I unsnapped her bra and slid both hands around her chest. I held one of her tiny breasts in each hand, and she was completely mortified.

Jeannie tried to yank my hands down, but I pulled her back against my chest and kissed behind her ear. She began to cry. She wailed that I had to be disappointed and I wouldn't want to keep seeing her. She couldn't have been more wrong. I'd never before felt breasts like hers. My hands completely engulfed them. Yes they were small, but they were really firm. I could feel her nipples poking into my palm as I gently held and caressed her little boobs.

Jeannie was pressed against me as my erection quickly filled my shorts. I felt her stiffen as she became aware of its pressure against her behind. And then she stopped crying. She began to inhale quickly and exhale with long, slow moans. She rocked her hips forward and back, rubbing her behind up and down against my penis. I could feel the muscles in her behind flexing and relaxing, and I couldn't control my reaction. She reached up and smashed my hands against her breasts as I felt several bursts of cum splashing into my shorts. I squeezed her breasts hard and she suddenly screamed.

I thought I'd hurt her, but when her whole body began to tremble I knew she was having an orgasm. I put one hand over her mouth when she started to scream again. After a few seconds her hip thrusts against my sticky crotch became less frequent. Abruptly she went limp.

I couldn't hold her up and we fell to the ground together. I continued to caress her breasts with one hand while we kissed. Several minutes later she whispered, "What's that smell?" I was embarrassed, but I pointed to the wet stain spreading across the front of my shorts. She squinted at it for several seconds in the poor light, then she kissed me really hard.

"I did that to you? Really?"

"I couldn't hold back, Jeannie. You were so . . . excited . . . and . . . "

Jeannie kissed me again. "I couldn't hold back, either. I was so afraid that you would be turned off by my little titties, but then I could feel . . . like heat . . . building up until . . . " She was silent for several seconds. "I've used my fingers. You know, down there. To play with myself. But I've never felt ANYTHING like that!"

Jeannie lay crosswise on top of me and we kissed again, both of us still topless although her bra was around her neck and still hooked over her arms. I felt her hand pressing against the damp area on my shorts. It was the first time she'd ever touched me below the waist. She almost bit my tongue when she started to giggle. "I didn't know guys could do that with their clothes on! I thought you had to . . . take it out or something."

"Well, rubbing your tits turned us both on. When you started to get excited, I lost it. I'll probably never get the stain out of my shorts."

Jeannie laughed, then nuzzled against my neck. "Are you sure? My breasts aren't too small? Aren't you disappointed?"

I still had a hand on Jeannie's bare chest and I began to pull on her nipples. When she began to make little moans again, I pushed her over on her back and started sucking on one of her breasts. I could pull it completely into my mouth. She suddenly pulled my mouth off her, slipped from underneath me, and put her bra and shirt back on. "No! Not again! It's too soon! I want to remember it. Call me tomorrow!" With that she ran toward her parent's house. I didn't even get a goodnight kiss.

This was obviously the first time Jeannie had been with a guy when he ejaculated. How could a college sophomore be so naive, even if she did live at home with her parents? Had she really been so insecure about her breasts that she had never before "gone very far" with a guy? I smiled to myself. As sensitive as her little tits were, I knew I could get into her pants without much trouble. I laughed, thinking about other men who hadn't bothered to try because they thought she was too small upstairs. I was going to score my second virgin.

My plans for seducing Jeannie quickly went awry when I fell in love with her. We spent more than two years slowly exploring each other's bodies before we finally made love. One evening when we were alone in her parents' home I deflowered her in the same bed she'd slept in since she was a little girl. Three weeks later we were married. That was just slightly more than seven years ago.

We now have two little girls of our own. Not only did Jeannie regain the rest of her figure after each birth, but nursing two babies had permanently added considerable heft to her breasts. Motherhood had finally fixed nature's goof, and her breasts were now correctly proportioned to the rest of her shapely body. I could no longer suck one of her breasts completely into my mouth. Even though I'm still a leg man, I didn't complain!

Jeannie's long habit of hiding her breasts in public simply couldn't be changed. On the two occasions I talked her into showing some cleavage when we went out, she was so uncomfortable having men stare at her chest that she made me take her home early. But when we were alone she wasn't shy, and I often enjoyed watching her move around our bedroom while partially clothed - or even better, nude.

Even with two small kids in the house, our sex life was more than adequate. What we missed in frequency, we made up for in intensity. Our home was happy, and I often wondered how I had been so lucky. Perhaps I jinxed us by thinking that way.

THE DEMISE OF OUR HAPPY HOME

Out of the blue a minor argument had escalated into a true confrontation, and each of us stubbornly refused to back down. I don't even remember what started it, but our fighting escalated until both of us were miserable. For the first time during our marriage we had angrily carried our argument into bed. We had been fighting with words alone, but that was soon to end. Jeannie struck first.

Before our argument we'd both usually slept in the nude. Particularly on weekends this had made sex a convenient - and relatively frequent - bedroom activity. Now, although we still slept in the same bed, Jeannie wore panties and a T-shirt every night. She had always done this during her periods, and at other times it had become her nonverbal signal that she didn't want to have sex. Almost six months passed since I had seen her undressed, even in bed. "Don't touch me!" her nightclothes proclaimed.

It was obvious that Jeannie was denying me access to her body in order to frustrate me into admitting that she was right. Although I continued to sleep naked, I didn't force her to make love. But after six months I retaliated by using her sexuality against her. I had never known a woman who was easier to arouse, and once Jeannie began to climax, it was almost impossible for her to stop. We called her nipples her "sex triggers" because it took so little breast stimulation to get her started. But what really got her motor purring was rubbing my hand - or even better my erection - near her pussy, either from the front or from behind, at the same time I caressed her nipples.

Twenty-four weeks without sex was more than enough! Jeannie always slept on her side, facing away from me since we'd argued. One night I woke up around 3:00 and listened to Jeannie's breathing as she slept. It was time to take action. Once I was certain she was completely asleep, I rolled over next to her. I slowly reached over her and began to gently rub her breasts through her T-shirt. With my other hand I rubbed my hand up and down the crease of her buttocks. When I felt her nipples getting hard, I pushed my fingers between her legs until I could slide the blade edge of my hand up and down her slit. By the time the crotch of her panties was starting to feel damp, I was fully erect.

Jeannie never liked me to fuck her from behind. Even so she gets quickly aroused when she feels a firm penis pressing between her cheeks. I scooted down the bed, aimed my erection up her body, and carefully slipped it between her legs. I rubbed his head along her pussy through her panties. Soon she started to move her hips so that she was pushing herself harder against my erection. By the time she started to grunt and moan in her sleep, I could feel my erection pushing the crotch of her panties into her vagina. The head of my penis was partway inside her, restrained only by her panties. By this time I could both feel and smell how wet she was, even though she was still asleep.

When Jeannie began to actively thrust her hips back and forth against my erection, I knew she was building to an orgasm. I moved my hand from her breasts to the front of her crotch and I rubbed in little circles over and around her clitoris. The sudden increase in sensation jolted her awake, and I immediately rolled away from her. She woke up with her wet panties partly wedged inside her open and wet pussy, with her nipples hard, and with her body preparing for an orgasm. But I had stopped the stimulation and left her hanging.

That first time I did this to her I thought she might beg me to fuck her. We had occasionally played a game when we were in public places where we knew we couldn't make love. I would slip my hand under her skirt so that I could surreptitiously fondle and caress her pussy and rub her clitoris. She usually tried to get me to stop, but doing something this daring in public really excited both of us. I found ways to keep her right on the edge without giving her relief. The longest the game had lasted had been a little more than two hours. That was the first time she had ever begged me for sex, and we kept fucking again and again throughout the night as quickly as I could regain erections. Both of us had sore genitals for several days, but in spite of the discomfort we had walked around with huge grins on our faces.

Beginning that first night when Jeannie didn't ask me to fuck her after I had gotten her to the brink - and every night thereafter when I played my game, I decided to lie on my back and beat off in front of her - something I'd never done before. I rubbed and stroked myself as I moaned and groaned loudly. I wanted to show her that I didn't need her body to get sexual release. It didn't take me long to climax.

Once I had filled my cupped hand with cum, I cleaned up in the bathroom and climbed back into bed. I went back to sleep, but she was too stirred up to relax, so she just tossed and turned. Of course she could have masturbated herself to orgasm with her fingers. I knew she occasionally did so, but she was too shy to do it in front of me. We both knew she would take care of herself after I left for work, but that meant she had to be miserable for several hours. Well, that was the idea, wasn't it?

Jeannie didn't break. Two weeks later I was getting tired of beating off, and I wondered what else I could try. Then I walked into our bathroom and saw a realistic, vibrating dildo where she had left it to dry. Clearly she had found another way to get relief. And I felt twinges of inadequacy because the dildo was longer and thicker than my organ was. She had retaliated.

Jeannie wouldn't fuck herself with the dildo while I was watching, but each night when I'd beat off after getting her aroused, she would lock herself in the bathroom and use the dildo. It apparently worked because within a couple of minutes I'd hear her cry out several times as she came. When she got back to bed, she would quickly fall asleep, so she had obviously relieved her sexual tensions. My nighttime sex game with her had failed, so after about a week of listening to her get off with the dildo, I gave up. I stopped turning her on as she slept. I was backing down, and I hoped she would recognize my concession and do the same. That hope was quickly dashed.

Jeannie perversely continued to use the dildo - both at night when I could hear her in the bathroom and also during the day when I was away. I got the message, loud and clear. She didn't need me for anything, including sex. A big plastic penis was taking care of her needs very well. Since I'd stopped my stimulation game, she didn't even need me for foreplay.

Beating off just wasn't satisfying me, and knowing Jeannie was getting off on a plastic penis made me feel worse. She had clearly escalated the conflict to a higher level, and she was winning. I couldn't think of any way to regain the upper hand. I was considering begging her for forgiveness, even though I still didn't know what I'd done wrong - or even if anything that had happened was really my fault. Nothing but pride kept me from doing what I should have done. If I had yielded to her, I know that what happened next would never have happened.

I thought I wouldn't have to kiss up to her when she didn't use the dildo for two nights. She was really moody, and she couldn't look me in the eye. That first night she also had a splitting headache, and her breath smelled strange, almost like something from the chemistry set I'd played with as a child. After another night without using the dildo, I hoped that she was going to give in to me. But then she began using it again. During the night I could hear her fucking herself with it in the bathroom, but not the same way as before. Now she seemed almost frantic, even desperate, to climax. I knew that something had happened to her, but I never suspected that she might have been unfaithful. That simply wasn't possible!

About two weeks later I was only a couple of days away from admitting defeat and giving in when things changed with shocking suddenness. Jeannie came home late for dinner, complained that she didn't feel well, and went directly to bed. I could see her legs trembling, and she had trouble walking. During the night I heard her whimpering, and I tried to comfort her. When I put my arms around her, she pushed me away and ran into the bathroom. I thought she was going to use the dildo, but she didn't. A few minutes later she came back to bed. She continued to whimper for the rest of the night. Neither of us got any sleep. If something upsetting had happened to her two weeks earlier, what in the world had just happened?

Jeannie never used the dildo again, and that really caught me off-guard. She wrapped it up and hid it in a box in her closet. I snooped and found it, and I frequently checked to be certain she hadn't used it again. It remained hidden in her closet. I assumed she had stopped using it because she had incorrectly decided that fucking herself with the dildo wasn't going to get me to surrender. Or perhaps it really wasn't all that satisfying after all. I thought her bouts of crying every couple of weeks reflected the deteriorating condition of our marriage. I even wondered if she had found out she had cancer or something.

In retrospect it's obvious that I should have known what was going on. But the abrupt loss of affection in our marriage six month earlier had affected my judgement, and I couldn't manage to figure out the puzzle that our lives had become. I kept trying to fit the pieces together in a way that meant everything between us would be the way it had been before. Yes, that was really dumb.

I returned to masturbation as my only sexual release. I really missed the overpoweringly erotic sensations in my penis as Jeannie's vagina squeezed and trembled during her climaxes. Since we had become parents, I almost always had to cover her mouth to suppress her loud screams as orgasms rippled violently through her body. What man wouldn't miss hearing his wife scream because of the sexual excitement he had helped her to achieve? I missed it a lot, and beating off just didn't do much for me at all.

Finally, when a clear pattern emerged, I became suspicious. At two-week intervals, Jeannie had been going out and coming back very late. This had happened at least a dozen times. She was always upset she returned, and she would never tell me where she had gone. Often she was really miserable, and a couple of times I heard her crying. I hoped that she had just been getting away from me so that she could think things out, but I was starting to worry that she was having an affair. Doing so would have been completely out of character for her, but I began to wonder what she was doing every two weeks. But why would having an affair make her so unhappy? And if it did, why was she still doing it?

I stubbornly didn't bring that issue up, and I deliberately avoided looking for any evidence that Jeannie was having sex with someone else. Call me a fool. As suspicious as I was that she might be going out to get laid, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to control myself if I actually found out that she was cheating on me. I also assumed that we would eventually work out our problem - whatever it was - and if she had been unfaithful and I didn't know about it, then I wouldn't have to deal with it. And what would happen to our two little girls if we broke up? I kept my head in the sand and my hands on my penis. Neither helped.

We scarcely talked to each other, except when our girls were around. We continued our silent argument even though I don't think either of us could remember what it was about. Even more than our regular, exciting sex. I missed having Jeannie as a friend and companion. Being at home around Jeannie was a cold and depressing experience, and for the first time I looked forward to leaving the house and going to my demanding job. I even agreed to extra out-of-town business travel so that I wouldn't have to face the frigid atmosphere at home.

A CHANCE TO SAVE OUR MARRIAGE

When our problem continued to drag on and on, it's not surprising that I seized an opportunity to repair our friendship and our marriage. I had completed some important out-of-town business several days earlier than anyone could have anticipated, and I decided to surprise Jeannie by arriving home unannounced early one Saturday evening, rather than on the following Monday morning as had been scheduled. I decided that I would hire a babysitter and take Jeannie dancing. My plan was for us to talk out our problem while enjoying the romantic atmosphere at one of the clubs we hadn't visited since our disagreement began.

I got hard just thinking about making love to her again. I was so happy anticipating our romantic evening - and the end to our problems - that I actually whistled as I drove. I should have known better. Who hasn't heard the stories about the husband arriving home and finding his wife in bed with another man? I was confident that Jeannie couldn't do that - to me, or to our marriage. Well, I tried to be confident. At least I was thinking positively. This evening alone together would enable us to repair our marriage. Of course it would. Sure.