Help! My Wife is a Sex Maniac! Ch. 01

As they say, it was a whirlwind affair.

Marriage happened after just three months. Even our most cynical friends, tossing confetti over us as we left the register office, had to admit we were made for each other.

The only person with any doubts was me.

Not because I doubted our relationship. I knew Elena loved me. And I her.

I just doubted myself.

Elena was not just out of my league. She wasn't even playing the same game.

Don't get me wrong. I've fucked beautiful women. But often this was at the end of the night as the club was clearing out. In simple terms, I'm not the kind of guy to be a first choice for women like Elena. My experiences had proved I was more of an acceptable second or third choice, depending on whatever else was available.

I didn't complain.

Those women whom I'd loved in the past I had thought were beautiful, of course. But I knew the difference between what I appreciated, and what the rest of the world considered beautiful and sexy.

Elena was both. She turned the heads of guys when she walked into a room. She made other women frown.

I thought she was achingly beautiful, with a body designed by God to show others how good they can be.

Ever had that jealous look from other guys when you're with your woman? Yeah, I saw that a lot.

Elena knew what she had, of course. But this is the best thing: She ignored it. She was vivacious, and fun to be around. Women might frown initially, but it was impossible not to like her after a few minutes of talking to her.

And I loved her from the moment I saw her profile on a dating app. She had just moved into the area, she had written. She had no friends. No boyfriend, even. Happy to meet people just to show her around... Or maybe more?

I saw that that she'd selected hook-ups as a relationship option. That'd be nice, I guessed. But I didn't pay much attention to it.

It would become important later.

I swiped right. Astonishingly, she did too. We chatted. Flirted a little. I said I'd show her around her new town.

And I did. We became tourists in our city.

At the end of the day we had a brief meal. And then, with a peck on my cheek by way of thanks, she caught the train back home.

That, I thought, was it. A great day with a great woman.

Great conversation. I should be happy for the opportunity. I'd give it the requisite day or two and then message her. But I wasn't optimistic.

I'd barely been able to take my eyes of her amazing body. I began to enjoy walking behind her and watching her arse. I enjoyed sitting opposite her as we had coffee and catching occasional glances at her incredible cleavage.

It was almost funny how outrageously sexual she was. She just had it, whatever it was.

I had my cock in my hand and was scrolling through photographs on her dating app profile when a message appeared from her later that evening following our date:

"Want to come over for some wine?"

Well, yes. I certainly would.

We didn't get to drink any wine. This became clear as soon as she opened the door with a smile that I'll never forget.

She took my hand and led me upstairs.

We undressed.

And then we fucked. Hurriedly and hotly. I hadn't had pussy for a few months and, evidently, she hadn't had cock for some time, either.

It was basic, missionary sex. There had been the pretence of foreplay but, as my hand had explored her body, she had whispered in my ear: "Fuck me now."

She came within less than a minute, and then again 30 seconds later. I filled the condom at the same time. We lay in the darkness until she said, "You know, this might become serious."

We saw each other daily. I couldn't wait until my working day was over and we met up.

We fucked relentlessly. If she stayed overnight I became used to being woken up by her tongue swirling around my cock. Sometimes we fucked in that lazy morning way, too. Sometimes she simply milked me with her mouth, greedily gulping down my sperm.

And that's the thing. She was a natural when it came to sex. She just had skills. She knew exactly how to give somebody pleasure. To give me pleasure. And, to be fair. I knew how to return the favour. I woke her up some mornings with my lips against her soft pussy. I loved the taste of her. With my fingers inside her, fucking her wetness, I loved being in control of her orgasms.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

We fucked like all the couples do when they first meet. Nothing spectacular. Nothing acrobatic. Just enjoying each other's bodies. Fucking from behind, cowgirl, spooning...

She was always keen to unexpectedly treat me by getting on her knees in front of me in any room in the house. I loved when, as we watched a movie in the evening, she slouched on the settee and gave me access to explore her pussy with my tongue (I didn't want to watch the crummy movie, anyway!).

And explore I did, taking my time, and making her cum into the double digits.

We got married, as I've mentioned. She moved in.

I thought I had won at the game of life.

Nobody can complain about the intensity of an orgasm, but when you love somebody, the pleasure is multiplied a million times. Staring into the eyes of your soulmate as your head nearly explodes with pleasure, and you feel them pulsing against your cock as they feel the same thing, is surely one of life's ultimate offerings.

I was hard whenever I saw her naked, unless my cock was still wet from her pussy -- and at that point I was at least thinking about going again, even if my cock wasn't ready to respond.

She matched me, move for move. She wanted all I could give her. More, maybe.

For example, once we were getting ready to go out. She was pulling up her dress, with that always-funny difficulty of pulling the tight fabric over the rump of her peachy arse. Who doesn't love that?

I sat back in bed, leisurely watching her, my hand idly stroking the achingly hard eight inches of my manhood.

With a smile she ordered me to lie back, and then squatted on my cock and rode me until we both came.

Then, and after wiping up my cum as it dribbled down her leg, she went back to getting dressed.

But there was a problem.

Let me talk briefly about Chrissie.

She was the one before Elena.

Something similar to the above had happened. We'd been getting ready to go out. Chrissie had been putting on her underwear. I had been watching her from the bed, slowly stroking my cock.

Chrissie had seen me. She too had smiled when, sitting in front of her dressing table, she had put the finishing touches to her lip gloss.

But here's where things were different.

I walked over to her, put my hand on the back of her head, and fucked her mouth. I told her to look up at me as I did so. Saliva dribbled from her mouth and, once or twice, she gagged as I pushed deep down her throat. It wasn't long until I came. I held her head as I pumped cum down her throat. I could feel her desperately swallowing.

I pulled my cock out and she gasped for air. Saliva and sperm were dribbling out of her mouth and onto her generous tits.

"Fuck it, I'll have to do my make-up again!" she said. She certainly would. Her mouth was seriously messed-up and her eyes had been streaming.

I slapped my cock against her cheeks, then pushed the tip against her lips. She licked the final drops of cum from my cock.

"What do you say?" I asked.

"Thank you," she said.

Chrissie had been deeply submissive. In case it isn't clear, I am dominant.

I'm not mad crazy about this side of me. I don't even define myself as being a sexually dominant guy. It's just something that arises during sex, and that I enjoy.

In fact, my relationship with Chrissie had ended because I wasn't dominant enough.

I didn't want to accompany her to BDSM clubs and flog her arse cheeks while others watched.

Sometimes I just wanted a romantic evening with a cosy little fuck at the end.

Nine times out of 10 Chrissie wanted to be treated "like the nasty slut I am".

Folks, it was very... tiring. Chrissie was a freak. I wasn't.

Back to Elena. Months into our marriage and she had no idea of this side of me. Our sex had been.... Straightforward. Fun, yes. Intense, yes. But nothing outside the scope of what most people consider ordinary nowadays.

To be frank, I didn't dare introduce this side myself to Elena. I couldn't risk losing her.

Things were about to change.

There were a few things that, well, had never quite added up about Elena.

The first was that she was a woman without a past. It wasn't that she hid anything. But she had turned up in my town and, essentially, begun a new life. She had previously lived on the other side of the country.

She had had boyfriends before me, of course. She talked about a guy called Alex. There had been a guy called Thomas, if I recall correctly.

She'd lived with Alex for a few years. It was partly because of a breakup that she had moved. I didn't press her for details, of course. What's passed has passed, I thought. Or at least I did back then.

The second thing that didn't quite add up was more serious.

She didn't give-up her dating app account after we started our relationship.

About a month after we'd met, and were well into our relationship, I opened the dating app to delete my account. I was pretty sure I wouldn't need it again any time soon.

And there was Elena. She had logged into her account that same day. Her profile pictures had changed since the last time I'd viewed her account, too. There was even one photograph I'd taken of her.

I asked her about it. She said she still talked to a handful of people she'd matched with. Just via the text chat feature. She wasn't using the app for hook-ups. It was just some guys she'd known for a while. It was nice to speak to people, she said, especially considering she was new to the area and had yet to make many real-life friends.

She said some of the guys had first started chatting to her around the same time she had met me. But all she did was banter with them. It just just like people chat to their mates on WhatsApp or Telegram. She talked about TV. Or stuff happening in the world. One guy had recommended a restaurant she and I had visited.

It was good, innocent fun.

Had she fucked any of these guys? She refused to answer, telling me that it was all in her past. Seeing that I was annoyed, she said she would delete her account just like I had done.

I watched from across the room as the did so. She flashed the phone screen at me and showed me that "User not found" appeared when she tried to login again.

OK. Fine. I put the matter behind me and didn't think about it until months later, after we had got married.

I had got used to her phone buzzing a lot with notifications. It was just old friends, she would tell me. From back home. Or work colleagues. Often she would spend five or ten minutes chatting to them in the evening.

She didn't text them when I could see her screen, though.

Her phone was configured not to show anything on the lockscreen other than that she had received a message of some kind. So, even if I glanced at her phone, it didn't reveal anything.

But my suspicions didn't go away. Not at all.

One evening, some months after we were married, she told me she wanted to have an early night. I was watching TV and wanted to stay up, so we kissed, and she went upstairs.

I don't know why but I felt things weren't right. After ten minutes I thought I'd just go to bed with her and read until I felt sleepy.

Once upstairs I could hear her... Or should I say, I could her the low buzz of her vibrator.

Folks, I knew she masturbated. Of course she did. She knew that I did, too. If I went away for work we would FaceTime and masturbate together. But it wasn't a regular thing we did. We both kept our wanking to ourselves.

The bedroom door was mostly closed that evening. I could see her through a crack. One hand was under the duvet, presumably holding the vibrator against her clitoris.

Her other hand was holding her phone. Initially I thought maybe she was watching porn.

She was texting somebody. She tapped out a message with her thumb, then when the response came back, she smiled, and... Well, then she intensified her pleasure with the vibrator, teasing herself, taking herself closer to orgasm.

This was the pattern. She'd text. Smile at the response, or even let out laughter. Then she'd close her eyes and give herself pleasure.

Eventually it became too much because, with a shudder, she reached a quiet orgasm. Then she smiled as she texted one final time before she put the vibrator and phone away, switched off the light, and settled down to sleep.

Back downstairs, I wondered what I'd just witnessed. Who was this guy she was texting. Alex? Thomas? Some guy off the dating app?

I've love to say it had made me hard but it hadn't. I was way too pissed off.

Half an hour later, following a little deep breathing to try and calm myself, I'd gone up to bed myself. After I got under the duvet, she spooned me. Then she reached around, as she so often did, to feel for my cock.

"My pussy's so wet," she said, sleepily. "I've been waiting for you to come to bed."

I moved on top of her without saying a word. Yeah, there was no doubt she was wet. My cock slipped inside with zero effort. I was still angry. It perhaps became clear in the way I fucked her, my cock pumping deep inside her pussy.

She seemed taken aback by my energy. She orgasmed, then said, "Cum in me."

I was just so annoyed. I wasn't about to do anything she asked for. Instead, I pulled out and, within seconds, sent spurts of cum up her stomach.

Again, she was surprised to the point of being shocked. But she smiled and said, "That was different!"

It might sound crazy but this was the first time that, following sex, I had cum outside her pussy. I always came inside her. That might be inside her pussy. It might be in her mouth when she gave me oral.

Chrissie had been the opposite. There wasn't an inch of that woman that I hadn't splattered with sperm.

As I said earlier, sex was different with Elena. It was just much more... traditional.

Returning from the bathroom after towelling herself dry, Elena gave me a peck on the cheek, and fell asleep near instantly.

What the fuck had happened?

The next day I knew that I had to somehow see her phone. I needed to know who this guy was. Hell, I had a right to know. Who was it who was bringing off my wife behind my back? I didn't care if this was over text chat, or if he was standing behind her, balls deep in her cunt.

The opportunity arose about a week after.

Elena left the house for work, but I found her phone on the kitchen counter top.

The screen was locked, of course. She had never shared the passcode with me.

But I could plug it into her laptop. That didn't need a password. Once plugged in it would sync her messages and media. And I could then see them.

I phoned in sick to my employer.

My heart was pounding as I attached the USB cable.

I knew I shouldn't be doing it. I knew I might be ending our relationship with what I discovered. If nothing else, the betrayal of trust of me hacking her phone and seeing her private messages could irreversibly damage our relationship.

But I had to know who this guy was.

Sync 100%. Complete.

I clicked to open the chat app on the laptop.

Messages from Maria, her manager at work. Nothing interesting.

Messages from her dentist about getting a checkup.

Her car insurance was about to expire. I should remind her about that.

And then, there it was in the list at the left.

Several male names. Mark. Alex. James.

I clicked on Mark.

I didn't need to read the chat. It was obvious what was being discussed from the thumbnails of photos in the chat.

Naked flesh. People fucking.

I click on one of the thumbnails. It opens full screen.

The text message attached to it says: "Remember this?"

The words are followed by a devil emoji.

Elena's face is on the left of the photo, her eyes closed. A huge spurt of cum is captured in the shot, flying out from a cock belonging to a guy at the right.

The cum is about to splash against Elena's red lips.

Her hair is different. Shorter. This is some time ago.

I sit gazing at the photo. I feel dazed. I have never cum on Elena's face. I've thought about it so many times.

Then I realise something. The photo was taken by a third person. The way Elena and the guy are shown means it couldn't have been taken by the guy himself. Or even Elena.

I close the photo and double-click another thumbnail.

A close-up of Elena's head, with two cocks pushing against her lips. The text message caption: "You're an INCREDIBLE cock sucker!".

I close the photo and open another.

This one's taken by a guy fucking Elena from behind, his cock half way inside Elena's pussy.

She's bent over. In front of her is another guy, and it's clear she has his cock in her mouth. The text message caption: "I want this again!"

I see a video file in the list. I take a deep breath and double-click to open it full screen.

It's like I'm there in the room with them. Mobile phones just have incredible picture quality nowadays.

Elena is on a bed, riding a guy, cowgirl. We're seeing her from behind. It's definitely her, though. I know that body so well.

The phone briefly pans down to show the cock of the guy holding the phone. The guy who's recording the movie.

He slathers this lengthy cock with some kind of lube and strokes it a few times.

There's a moment of camera shake and confusion, until the image stabilises. The guy is kneeling behind Elena, who's still riding the same guy from before.

She's bent forward.

The guy slowly pushes his cock into Elena's arsehole.

She releases a deep groan.

I know that sound. I've heard it from Elena so many times.

The guy starts fucking Elena's arse, as she continues to ride the guy she's straddling.

From what he's saying, the cameraman is clearly enjoying it.

He pans the camera away from his cock sliding in and out of her arsehole.

My heart skips a beat.

There's a third guy. He comes over and offers his cock to Elena's mouth.

"Yeah!" says the guy holding the phone. "Spit roast and a cock for every hole!"

Elena makes a positive response -- an mmmm to agree with him.

I feel dreamlike.

The video continues. All three guys fuck Elena.

They use her.

I want to stop the video playing. Put the laptop away. Forget about what I've seen.

But I can't. I can't look away.

It's only when I hear somebody behind me that I hit the pause button.

I turn my head to look.

It's Elena.

"What are you doing?" she asks.