Biloxi Doxy Pt. 01

Cherry had made quite a name for herself in college, long before I'd met her. Cherry became Cherry after she couldn't decide which of the fraternity brothers was going to take her cherry, so she insisted on an all-brothers gangbang. She gave it up all night and became a legend at the college.

She was the "little sister" of the fraternity when I transferred in Junior year and instead of her usual night of servicing any brother who happened to be horny, my new brothers had her donate the entire night to me. It was a night in heaven for me but an unusual night for Cherry. We did something she hadn't done in college: we talked. Through the night, between frenzied bouts of sex, we got to know each other. I was the first guy with whom Cherry had ever really talked.

Since freshman year, Cherry had thought she was happy in her role as "little sister", a euphemism for frat whore. She had never felt part of anything in the past. She'd been home-schooled by distant and unfeeling parents and had never developed any friendships. Her parents' farm was remote, and she rarely left it. She was a lonely child. It wasn't until her parents died in a traffic accident and a woman from social services stepped in to guide the 17-year-old girl in the five months leading to her 18th birthday that she had even thought about college.

Encouraged and helped by the government woman, Cheryl (her real name) applied and was accepted by the local college. Her roommates dragged her to her first fraternity party. That was it. She never went to any of the other fraternities or sororities parties. She was swept off her feet by the Omega Alphas. For once, she felt she belonged. When the brothers found out that she was a hot virgin, primed for deflowering, a vicious competition threatened to tear the house apart as brothers started pushing brothers away from the startled and frightened girl. When it came to actual fistfights, the president called for an all-member meeting, which Cheryl was invited to attend.

When the arguments began about who had cut in on whose date, Cheryl began to understand that she wasn't the prize they were fighting over -- her virginity was. It was then she proposed to give herself to the entire house -- no need to fight over her virginity or her vagina. She was happy to give back to the house that she felt had adopted her.

It was decided that lots would be drawn to determine the order, with the lucky number one being responsible for all the liquor and food for the event. He would be the recipient of the ultimate prize. Except for the now rechristened Cherry, only full brothers would be allowed at the event. Cherry would determine how many brothers she would handle each night, and the event would stretch over as many nights as required. There were only 37 full brothers, and by the end of the week, she was ready for repeat business and pledges. She remained available to all the brothers throughout her college years.

She was a senior when we spent our night together and it wasn't until we talked that she realized how little she knew about the other brothers. She knew what they drank and how much they could handle; knew their favorite sexual positions; and even knew what problems they were having with their girlfriends. Yes, they all had girlfriends, women they took to dances, to dinner, and to picnics on the beach.

Cherry had been kept active servicing the house and hadn't expected or noticed that she wasn't asked out. She went out with groups of the guys. That was enough for her. She belonged. She had a room in the frat, and other than classes, she rarely left the house at all. She felt fulfilled by her role as "little sister" to her brothers in the fraternity.

When I asked her out, she couldn't believe it. At first, she lit up like the fourth of July, then her expression came crashing down. She looked at me and said, "No. No, Brian. No, I'm not someone you ask out. I'm here for everyone. I'm the little sister. People don't date me. It causes too many fights."

She hugged me and thanked me for asking her but refused to listen to me when I tried to convince her to date me. "I'm here for everyone. It tears the house apart when I'm not." She kissed me, got up and locked herself in her room.

Later I saw one of the pledges knock on her door. It opened and he went in. I went up to bed for the night.

Cherry avoided me after that night. When I tried to talk to her, she asked me flatly if I wanted to fuck. If not, she had others waiting for her. She wouldn't talk to me at all. I tried getting intimate with her, but when I tried to kiss her during intercourse, she broke out in sobs and shoved me out of her room.

That was just the beginning. She couldn't stop. Brother after brother complained about how I had destroyed a good thing. Apparently even horny young men are put off by an unmoving woman weeping loudly while they're attempting to get their rocks off. Surprisingly, the brothers actually had feelings for their little sister. They wanted her to be happy. Many actually thought of her as a sister. "Just," one explained to me, "not when I'm fucking her."

The current president called another all-brothers meeting, one that Cherry was also invited to attend. To her surprise, the brothers voted unanimously that she should date me. However, they made it clear that they still wanted their little sister.

Cherry jumped up, screamed "Yes!" and threw her arms around me, repeating, "Yes, yes, yes!"

It bothered me that she'd still be everyone's cum-dump, a term I'd never applied to her before. Now that she was going to be dating me, it jumped unbidden to my mind. I really didn't think badly of her, but two seconds into this relationship, that's the characterization that my mind grabbed.

However, she was something special and I was happy to get what I could. So, for the rest of her senior year, we would go on dates, return to the Omega Alpha house where there would be brothers waiting impatiently for her. Sometimes I'd just go to my room and crash. Other times, when there were only one or two brothers waiting, I'd just sit until she called me down to her room where she'd spend the night in my arms.

Was it weird? Bizarre? Hell, yes it was, but it's what Cherry needed. She felt part of the house and felt she owed it to the house to be available. I knew she loved me, and I loved her, but sex for her wasn't about exclusivity, it was inclusivity. I guess she was just an early woke girl.

After she graduated and got a job, we found ourselves an apartment in town. It was hard for her, but working during the day kept her away from the OA house, and I worked at keeping her away at night. She still popped over the occasional evening and more often on the weekends. Again, she felt she owed the brothers and worked to keep them happy. I didn't like it, but it had been part of her life before me, and she was gradually weaning away from OA, going less and less. So I tried to be patient.

Once I graduated with my degree in Geology, I got a job back home in Biloxi. Cherry transferred to an office there and we got married. I'd proposed before, but when Cherry understood that marriage meant exclusivity to me, she put me off. If she was in town, she had to be somewhat available to the brothers. Now in Biloxi, removed from everyone she knew, she accepted my proposal, and we settled down in wedded bliss.

Back then, Biloxi was an exciting town. In a temperance state, Biloxi is where you let your hair down. Clubs along the strip provide drinks, drugs and sex. But all that was removed from the family life we had across the bay in Ocean Springs.

I went to work for Biloxi Oil and Gas, where my stepfather Brad worked. He recommended me for the position, and as a senior geologist, his recommendation went a long way. At first, I was working in their Ocean Springs offices. After the first two years I was well versed in company procedures and its needs, so then I was transferred out to the rigs. I began working long shifts offshore, usually 3 months on, one month off. My rotations as a mudlogger (geologist) were different from the roughnecks who work the rigs. My testings and the samplings they required couldn't always be done in the normal 3 weeks on/3 weeks off work pattern, and the company paid me extra for the longer times I spent on the rigs. Likewise, my time off the rigs was shorter, again reflected in my compensation package. We were able to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle and as my salary covered all the bills, I was able to let Cherry keep her salary for herself. I felt proud to be able to do that for my wife.

We'd been married over six years. Every fourth month was like a new honeymoon. I'd come home to a marathon sex session, then spend a few days clearing up whatever paperwork the company required and whatever chores need to be done around the house. Then Cherry would take time off work, and we'd spend a honeymoon period at a vacation resort, usually on the Coast or the Caribbean, although we'd gone one time to the mountains in Colorado and a couple of times to Hawaii. Cherry's boss was very understanding, and she never had trouble getting any time off.

Her job and hours fluctuated anyway. She worked for an insurance adjuster and was almost always out in the field checking out accident sites or appraising property, before or after accidents. Before, to set the insurance rate and after to assess the damage. I never really understood it, but it paid well and kept her busy.

We figured that with my salary and her savings, we should be able to retire, maybe as early as our forties, and enjoy life. We decided to wait to have children until I was promoted off the rigs. Cherry felt that a child needs a full-time father. I agreed.

Then I snuck home to surprise Cherry for our seventh wedding anniversary. A supply ship showed up two days before my transit was due, and since my testing was all done, I grabbed my things and jumped aboard. I was grinning ear to ear, thinking how surprised Cherry would be.

I went straight home from the docks. I could report to my stepfather tomorrow with the test results. I wanted my wife in my arms.

The house was dark and cold. The beds were made, the house was neat, but it had an unlived feeling to it. I called Cherry's cell and her excited voice boomed over the speaker. "Hi, honey. Happy anniversary! I can't wait until Wednesday when you get home. I'm going to smother you with kisses!"

She sounded normal, like she did whenever I called home. "I can't wait either, sweetheart. Where are you? Are you at work."

"No, I'm home. I was just getting ready to cook dinner. I wish you were here right now. I'm making your favorite. Fried chicken! And I've got some tender white thighs for you!" Her chuckle was throaty and sexy.

I looked over at the cold stove. Yeah, I thought. At home cooking chicken. I felt sick and my throat began to close up. "I love you, sweetheart. I just called to wish you a happy anniversary. I've got to go, now."

As I hung up, I could hear her saying how much she loved me.

I sat for a while as the room darkened and the sun went down. When I became conscious of the dark I realized that my wife wasn't coming home that night. I gathered myself together and went over to my neighbor John's house. He often looked after the house while we were away. I hoped that maybe Cherry was planning some surprise for me. If so, maybe John was watching the house and would know what was going on.

John was a casual friend, as next-door neighbors are that you don't really socialize with. We often exchanged favors and tools, helping each other out when an extra set of hands was required. But beyond that, for some reason we'd never really connected.

He looked surprised to see me, so I explained coming home early and finding the house empty. "What's going on, John? Is Cherry off somewhere? Are you watching the house for her?" I could hear a desperate pleading in my voice, and I could see that John heard it as well.

He looked at me gravely for a moment, and then said, "You'd better come in."

He had me sit at his kitchen table and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. "You don't know, do you?" he asked. "I just never saw how you couldn't know."

"Know what? Is Cherry alright? Where's my wife, damn it!" I slapped his table in frustration.

"She's probably at work, Brian. It's seven o'clock. About the times things get hopping." John took a slug of his beer.

"Work? Why would the house feel so empty if she was just out doing her job?" I was irritated with John. His answers were just confusing the issues.

"What are you talking about? She never stays here when you're out on a rig. She stays at Doxies, where she works."

"Doxies?" I was stunned. There was only one Doxies I could think of. "You mean Doxies, in Biloxi?"

John looked down at the table and nodded. Doxies was famous on the coast. Politely, it was a gentlemen's club. Common parlance, it was a strip club. In actual fact, as everyone in Biloxi knows, it was a whorehouse.

"Doxies? No, she works for an insurance adjuster. Her checks come..." John was shaking his head, sadly but firmly. "No, John, she couldn't."

John shook his head again. "Brian, I've seen her there, stripping." When I still looked unbelieving, he sighed and said, "Maybe it was just a lookalike. Okay? Unless your wife has a tattoo brand above her pussy showing the Greek letters, Omega Alpha." He could tell by my expression that he had hit pay dirt.

"She's stripping, John?" I couldn't believe it. I thought we were happy. I thought she was happy. I thought she loved me. This couldn't get any worse.

"Not as much as she used to, Brian. She's the most popular Doxy there. Now she spends most of her time upstairs. She got the big corner bedroom." The way John said it showed way too much familiarity with the whole arrangement.

"You've been to her room, John?" The coldness of my statement made John suddenly aware that he was talking to that doxy's husband.

"I'm sorry, Brian. Don't get mad at me, please. Everyone sees her. I've seen your stepfather there, many times. She's very popular." I don't know what my face looked like, but John's was now a mask of fear.

I threw my beer bottle against his wall, standing so fast that my chair fell over as the bottle shattered on the wall. I picked up the chair and heaved it out his kitchen window. John cowered on his seat.

"Don't let me see you again." I said as I stormed out of the house.

My mother was shocked to see me, as I pushed past her and shoved my stepfather up against the wall. "You're fucking my wife?" I pulled him back and shoved him back into the wall. "You're fucking my wife?" I shoved him again, and again. This was a man I had loved like a father, who had taken care of me and my brother after our father abandoned us at my brother's birth. I sobbed again, "You're fucking my wife."

My mother pulled me away from her husband and led me to the couch. She hugged me and told me that it wasn't Brad's fault. It was something Cherry needed. She had helped her, my mom said.

My head was spinning again. My stomach was knotted. I didn't understand, I wanted to throw up, I wanted... I didn't know. To understand, maybe. "You helped Cherry whore," I asked my mom in disbelief.

"Well, I got her the job at Doxies. I still had connections from when I worked there." I rushed to the bathroom. I couldn't understand, but I could vomit. Again and again.

My mom came in and wiped my forehead and mouth with a wet cloth. I panted above the bowl, waiting to heave again.

"It was for the best, Brian. Cherry was used to an active sex life at the fraternity," Fuck! My mom knew about Cherry and the little sister cumdump fuckfest. "You kept her happy, but when you started going away for three months at a time, she was dying. I saw that she was prime for an affair. If that happened, you'd lose her. I know you love her. So, I arranged for her to work where she'd get all the sex she could handle without any emotional attachments. She's happy, you were happy. It was good."

My wife was a whore and my mom thought that was good. Wait. "You worked at Doxies?"

"Brian, I had it worse than Cherry. Your father was a sailor, and he'd be gone sometimes for over a year. When you're young and horny, you just can't masturbate enough to make it through a year without real sex. I started going to the bars in Biloxi, picking up random men. Then one night at Doxies, the manager convinced me that it'd be easier on me just to sell it upstairs. I'd strip a little to get the customers interested, then after a while I had a regular clientele that kept me as busy as I needed. It worked fine until I slipped up and got pregnant with your brother. Your dad came home from a 14-month cruise and found he had an 8-month pregnant wife! That didn't go over too well."

"When did you quit Doxies? I don't remember you working at all." My stomach had started to settle down. I sat with my back against the wall and looked up at my mother.

"I quit working nights when you were about five, but I worked while you were at school for another three years. Then I pretty much quit unless they had a special request for me. Your mom was quite a popular Doxy in her prime!" My mother smiled coquettishly. My stomach threatened to heave again.

"But you married Brad when I was three." I heard Brad laugh out in the living room.

"Where do you think I met my honey? The workers on the rigs were our bread and butter at Doxies. More money than brains, those roustabouts. I picked the best of the litter and let him marry me." She smiled out the door at Brad. "He didn't mind me working. He'd watch you and your brother while I brought in some extra cash."

"So, my mother was a whore, and now my wife's a whore." I shook my head. "How's this work? She works for the insurance adjuster by day and Doxies by night? How did I never catch on?"

"She stopped working for the insurance man when she went to work for Doxies. Her money from Doxies goes into the agency's account and he pays her as if she was his employee. He takes out the taxes and handles her insurance and 401k. She gives him a go when she picks up her checks and that keeps him happy.

"When you're on a rig, she just stays at Doxies. She's an amazing girl. She can handle clients pretty much around the clock. Brad would warn her when you were schedule to be home, and that allowed her to avoid most conflicts.

"And if you're home when she's needed and can't get out of it, she just does a little 'insurance adjusting' to explain her absence." My mother smiled at me. That pissed me off. Especially when I remember how much "adjusting" she'd done in the past.

"So my wife's a whore, probably fucking the guys I work with on the rigs, fucking her former boss, my stepfather, and my neighbors and god knows who else, and my mom's helping her. Because my mom's a fucking whore too!" I shoved her aside as I lurched out of the bathroom. Brad stopped me.

"Don't call your mother a whore. She deserves your respect. She has appetites, needs, like Cherry does. They can't help it. Your father was surprised by that and ran off. I don't blame him. But you," he almost sneered at me, "You knew what your wife was like before you married her. You watched her service an entire fraternity, and you still loved her. Grow up." This man who had raised me slapped my face, lightly. "Your wife is the woman she's always been. The woman you love."

Tears came to my eyes. The anger I had for this man who was fucking my wife and my mother who arranged for my wife to be a whore, it didn't leave me as much as I had to let it go because it had no where to go. "But Cherry knew that marriage meant exclusivity, monogamy. We talked about it. She agreed." I heard me whimper.

"I told her when you're in an impossible situation, you adjust. When my son leaves you for months, you handle business. When he's home, you're monogamous. That's how I handled my marriage, to your father." My mother explained.