I Need Cock, Honey.

I was fucked off with our regular Saturday routine and having loads of Tom's friends descend upon our apartment while the game was shown on our eighty inch TV. I get that he's a sports enthusiast, but we were only three months married and the weekends were already taken up by slovenly drinkers scratching their balls while treating me like a waitress.

"I wouldn't eat the salted nuts any more if I were you because most of your friends are scratching theirs before dipping the same hand into the bowl you're eating from."

"Noted darling. Are you helping out with our guests this time?"

"It's not so much the helping that bothers me as being treated like the help in my home. I can't stick this crap much longer."

"Okay Zoey, we've been over it too often now. I don't care much for your friends either."

"Do I ever place my friends above you, Tom?"

In fairness to him, he shook his head and looked sheepish.

"No, you don't. Never."

"Do I invite them into our home, ever?"

"No."

"Have I helped you for the last two months every weekend with your pals?"

"Yes."

"That's because I love you unconditionally."

I stared at him, hating any argument between us, so I made like the UN and declared neutrality. It was fortunate that his first guest rapped on our door because my eyes simmered like pools of lava amid an ocean of volcanic dust.

He hesitated, with his head spinning from me to the door and back.

"It's okay Tom. If you'd rather play with your friends than fuck my desperate pussy then crack on and enjoy yourself."

It was with some satisfaction that I noticed his face drop. Perhaps a sharp shock was exactly what my husband needed to waken him from a senseless afternoon of drinking.

"What's that supposed to mean Zoey?"

"I need cock, honey."

"What the fuck?"

I was almost inside our bedroom and nonchalantly swung around while walking backwards, jabbing my finger urgently for Tom.

"You'd better get that door. There's more important shit than me on the other side of it for you, husband."

Inside our bedroom sanctuary, I locked the door. It wasn't to keep my husband out, but I wanted to shower and dress without disturbance to get out and meet my friends. I had no intention of punishing Tom, but neither would I hang around like an accessory.

I languished under a warm monsoon rain shower, dried my hair and groomed my pussy in case Tom came to his senses later. He prefers freshly shaven labia when servicing me with his mouth, and I like the feel of a soft warm tongue on silky smooth skin, too.

With my Agent Provocateur, Nyxie panties and bra under a black, skin tight cocktail dress and six inch red heels I was set for the late afternoon and early evening session at Gustaf's Wine Bar on Main Street with my oldest pals.

When I walked through our bedroom door into the living room, eight guys froze except for the cocks that hardened. I felt pleased Tom noticed me and strolled to him, kissing his lips gently before waving at the others.

"See you later sweetie, enjoy the game fellas."

Tom's jaw hit the floor and I thought perhaps a small lesson was learned. When I closed our apartment door behind me, I paused to listen and heard one voice, louder than the others.

"No fucking way would I hang out with you lot if I were married to Zoey. You're a fucking idiot, Tom."

"Mind your own business dickhead."

I walked downstairs feeling smug and with my self esteem lifted by a few notches.

Gustaf's was throbbing even in the afternoons because his food and wine selections were exquisite. Someone said the patron had owned a Yugoslavian vineyard and ski lodge before the war and learned how to create a great apres ski atmosphere.

Carla had reserved us a booth for fourteen with our own waiters and five ice filled buckets chilling Moet champagne.

"What brought you out today, Zoey?"

"Tom's got his friends over."

"Ahh, I see."

"What do you see, Carla?"

"He's taking you for granted, babe."

"Maybe a little but he's a good husband."

"Yeah, for now, but he's won the sperm war in your pussy and doesn't need to work hard for you."

"The what now?"

"We're studying it in psychology. There are theories that male sperm competes in a woman's reproductive system to inseminate her when she takes multiple sexual partners. It's also suggested that husbands thrive when competing with others to mate with their woman."

"Okay, that's just fucking weird, Carla."

"Not really. If you think how keen Tom was before he married you to now, you'll understand. He's won the competition to have you and he's eased off."

I relaxed back into the deeply cushioned leather sofa's that made up our booth and thought about what my oldest friend had said. It was true that my husband was less attentive, but I didn't think that problem was symptomatic of a bad marriage.

My ex-boyfriend, Clark arrived, kissed all of my friend's on the cheek, then tried to hit my lips. I turned my face sharply, unwilling to re-engage a failed relationship. He kissed my cheek gently and I tapped my glass with his.

When Clark sat down beside me I waited until he became engrossed in a conversation with Carla and then slipped sideways out of the booth.

I rescued a half bottle of champagne from our table and collected a spare glass at the bar on the way past. The main lounge was crowded, so I used the stairs and went to a snooker room on the first floor that I knew nobody used on a Saturday.

It was cool, dimly lit and cosy in the old wooden panelled room. I closed the door, shutting out all noise and placed my glass and bottle on the green baize following that closely with my ass.

As I swung my knees back and forth a lewd thought came to me. I retrieved my phone, spread my legs and took a photo up my skirt. I checked to make sure my panties were absolutely straight, covered my moist slit and that I'd captured a great angle.

I selected Tom from my contacts and sent him the tawdry image.

Within seconds, my phone vibrated and I smiled knowing it was my husband.

That's not fair. Why don't you come home, please?

Why don't you cum to Gustaf's? I have privacy in the old snooker room for fun if you'd like.

Love to babe but we're into the game.

Okay. XOXO.

He didn't even respond with a kiss, which irritated me but also started my thinking of Carla and our conversation about sperm wars.

Without thinking about it, I hopped off the snooker table and poured another glass of bubbly, drinking it down in one. With a measure of Dutch courage, I ran my hands up inside my cocktail dress, stuck both thumbs in my panties, and slid them off.

I launched my Nyxie's into the green baize centre catching a perfect framing of them where the black ball sits. In quick succession I photographed my forsaken panties, then put one leg on the wooden edge of the snooker table and clicked a snap of my uncovered pussy.

Tom called me this time.

"What are you doing, Zoey?"

"Getting your attention. It seems that's the only way."

"Come home, you're drunk."

"No babe. I won't come home until ready and I'm not drunk."

I ended the call just when the door opened, cursing Tom for his lack of interest. A guy in his late thirties or early forties dressed very smartly walked in. He looked like a slightly younger version of my dad.

"Hi young lady. Why are you hanging out in here alone?"

"Oh, sorry. Umm, hi, yeah. I err, just needed some alone time."

"Okay well that's fine. I have a key if you wouldn't mind locking up when you're done."

"Oh, right... are you Gustaf?"

"Yes, that would be me dear lady."

"You're a lot younger than I imagined."

"Everyone says that. By the tales told around here I'm anywhere between fourteen and ninety. The legend helps pull in customers but does little for my self esteem."

"What do you mean?"

"When people meet me, they always prefer their imagined version."

"I think you're handsome and, fit looking, too. Are you around forty?"

"You're quite astute... err?"

"Zoey."

I moseyed over to him offering my hand. His blonde unruly mop begged my attention but I didn't dare. His rugged features suggested a man of the world which fit the narrative I'd heard. He was six feet, with square shoulders and powerful muscles.

"Only Mrs Gustaf's opinion about you really matters, though."

"There isn't a Mrs Gustaf. Never has been, and likely never will be either."

I hopped back onto the green baize rolling unsteadily because of the champagne. Gustaf stepped in quickly, grabbing my hand, hauling me up.

"Do you want a ride home?"

"No, I'm okay thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Why do you ask, Gustaf?"

"Because I just saw the most amazing, shaven pussy when you fell backwards and I see your Agent Provocateur's are in the middle of my green baize."

"Oh, fuck."

I felt mortified, but he seemed lighthearted about the whole scene.

"I was, umm, teaching someone a lesson, shall we say?"

"Ah, I know all about that."

"What do you mean?"

"Sperm wars."

"That's the second time someone has brought up that term today."

"It's a real thing, Zoey. At least I believe it and so do many hotwives I know."

I looked quizzically at him. I hadn't reached for my knickers yet and wondered why. My glass was nearby but empty. Gustaf noticed when I glanced at it and stepped forward, picking up my bottle, recharging the glass with a flourish.

"Am I the only one that doesn't know about sperm wars?"

"It doesn't always apply. Some men are more motivated in their steady relationships than others."

"My husband couldn't care less."

"Ah, I see, and you thought that sending him a few photographs might help?"

"Yeah."

"Did it help? Is he on the way here?"

"Nope."

"You need to go further."

"Further, how?"

"Send him a photograph of your pussy gaping wide open dripping with cum and tell him to show up or fuck off forever."

"F-f-fucking hell! That's a bit extreme."

"Up to you I guess. There are plenty of guys downstairs that would crawl a hundred miles on broken glass to help you."

"Help me how?"

"Well, some might want to have you forever and others just for an hour."

"My current husband wants me forever."

"Just not for this next few hours, though?"

"Touché, Gustaf."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just commenting on the situation because, frankly, he's a fool."

"It's okay, but that wasn't much of an apology."

"What do you expect?"

"I always feel that men should pray for forgiveness when they are in the wrong,"

I inched forwards to the wooden edge of the snooker table and spread my legs wide while hitching my dress hem up to my waist. My bare pussy was clearly on display, and I got a delectable whiff of my arousal. I figured Gustaf smelled that I was in heat too. My ovulation was less than two days away.

"That's quite an exquisite altar, Zoey."

"Do you need to pray and beg forgiveness, Gustaf?"

"Yes, please."

"Then kneel, kind sir and take your absolution."

I lay back and let Gustaf force my legs backwards so he could get best access to my pussy. When he first licked my labia I trembled in anticipation and because I was being a total slut.

Gustaf had my pussy lips in his mouth when the door burst open. Carla and Emma were gobsmacked, and for a moment, the world stood still. Gustaf didn't stop licking and sucking my pussy hole, neither did I attempt to halt his excellent progress.

I beckoned both friends who shut the door behind them.

"Gustaf, meet Carla and Emma. Guys, this is Gustaf."

"Gustaf the owner of this place?"

"Yeah. Gustaf the proprietor and accomplished pussy licker."

"What about Tom?"

"Sperm wars babe and I'm setting up the battlefield to win."

"Oh fuck. I didn't imagine my advice would cause this."

She brandished her hands in my direction, which generally included me, my Nyxie's on the table and Gustaf on his knees doing a damn fine job of praying.

"If you want to make yourselves useful, spread my legs wider so Gustaf can get better access and stream a video call to my husband."

"Are you fucking joking, Zoey?"

"No Carla. I'm taking your advice and applying it to my situation. A few months into marriage and Tom lets me walk out of the apartment looking like this, preferring his friends. Fuck that for a marriage."

"So, what do you intend doing?"

"I want Gustaf to fuck me before Tom arrives here, and then some choices can be made."

I was determined and more than a little terrified. My hands went unintentionally to Gustaf's head where I rifled gently through his thick hair. I wasn't prepared for a nose dive marriage with years of acrimony. Either Tom would be the man he was before our wedding or I'd move on.

"Gustaf. Can you get a few bouncers in here, please?"

"What for?"

"To restrain my husband when he arrives. I need to go through with this regardless what he thinks or does. It's make or break time."

"It's very early in your marriage."

"Exactly Gustaf."

I tossed my phone to Carla and shook my legs in the air. She and Emma gripped one of my heels each, stepped to their side of the snooker table, and split me in half. I had been a gymnast and cheerleader at college and, having kept that going by daily workouts it was easy enough to be spread wide.

Gustaf couldn't believe his luck, and with wide eyes he got back to dining at my pussy restaurant. I felt relaxed when Carla video called Tom on the messaging app. She'd reduced his volume to zero for when he realised what was happening after my friend revealed the full scene. For now, all my husband saw was my face.

I smiled at the camera and he smiled back, speaking words I couldn't hear.

"I'm streaming myself having my pussy licked, Tom. In the next five minutes the man eating my cunt will start fucking it until he empties every drop of his semen inside me."

Tom's face turned ashen grey and he stood up, screaming at the screen.

"I can't hear, but I hope this is a lesson to you. I won't grow old with a man who can't be bothered to spend quality time with me. What happens hereafter is up to you, babe. I love you but not enough to be taken for granted until I die."

I nodded at Carla who let go of my leg so she could place my phone high on the scoreboard with a view of the entire room. The door opened and four hefty guys strode in, moving discreetly to a corner.

They weren't surprised by the scene they had interrupted and I didn't much care, anyway. Gustaf's tongue lashing across the tip of my clitoris while he gently bathed my pussy lips in his saliva was plenty to occupy my mind.

I stared briefly at my phone camera, bucking my ass gently up and down on the green baize and to the tune of Gustaf's tongue while my friends held me wide open. My smile was intentionally neutral because I didn't want to hurt Tom although I knew this would.

I closed my eyes, imagining the scene in the room. I was split in half, being licked by a professional with an attendant audience waiting to restrain my husband.

I'm definitely a slut.

My orgasm built slowly on Gustaf's tongue. He was definitely expert, running it up and down my creamy furrow like a man possessed, sucking and swallowing greedily. Occasionally he slid across my anal pucker while the girls splitting me in half leaned my ass back a little more to roll my anus upwards for my swains improved access.

Gustaf buried his face between my ass cheeks at one point trying to lick the inside of my rectum. He got further inside my back passage than anyone else had ever been, stimulating nerves I didn't know existed. I resolved to try anal soon, perhaps as a gift for good behaviour to my husband if he still wanted me.

When I exploded, my squirting was intense and unexpected. I'd given no one a unicorn pee shower ever, and wasn't able to control my gushing flow this time. Gustaf was expert in the collections department, positioning his mouth over my pussy, gulping and swallowing so perfectly, I was sure he never spilled a drop.

As I rolled around in euphoria, descending from one of my best orgasm's ever, Gustaf dropped his pants, then his boxer briefs and I had a sobering shock.

"That's enormous, Gustaf. How the fuck?"

Carla and Emma stared at my lover's cock looking like a cross between jealous wife and a fox presented with an open chicken coop full of hens.

"My cock is quite popular with hotwives, Zoey. I've never had complaints. Might I lie down on the table and you straddle me? Perhaps your friends can help support you sliding up and down my pole."

I glanced at my phone and saw Tom was in his car, probably racing here or to a divorce lawyer's office. He screamed into his camera, but it was no use. I pointed at Gustaf's cock and shouted.

"Fucking hell. Will you take a look at that, honey. It's just as well you chose your friends over me, right?"

Gustaf leapt onto the table like a gymnast, closely followed by Carla and Emma. I sat up, then stood while everyone maneuvered themselves to where they could fuck me or help. When I squatted over my accidental lover's cock he looked affectionate and lustful. I smiled and he grinned widely.

Truthfully, I needed his cock. My libido was on fire. A hedonistic avalanche had gripped me and I was roaring along the path it chewed out of the mountain. Nothing would stop me taking the biggest cock I'd ever seen, never mind fucked.

Carla and Emma stood beside me when I squatted over the monster shaft. Each woman held me under an armpit like loyal sentinels protecting their mistress. When Gustaf's glans nudged against my pussy hole I couldn't take my eyes off his face, not even when Tom burst into the room, screaming.

He was standing in front of me just a few feet away, but I refused to look. The bouncers took him to a couch in front of me, sat my husband down and stifled his protestations. When he was almost silent, bar some muffled screams, I looked up from my lover's face.

"If you even flinch or make a sound until I'm finished, I'll leave here with Gustaf and you'll never see me again, sweetie."

Tom shook his head and sobbed like a baby. I saw genuine regret in his expression and I almost backed out because the tears staining his face tore at my heart.

"I'm going to ask them to release you now, husband. Do you promise not to move or speak?"

He nodded sullenly and they released him. The bouncers stood up and moved to a discreet position, ready to pounce if Tom defied me.

"I'm not spending my life with a man who is indifferent to me. Gustaf is going to cum inside me and after that, he'll leave. It's up to you what happens next, and I wouldn't blame you if that's divorce."

I stared at Tom as I lowered myself onto Gustaf's cock. His glans was enormous and that parted my labia delightfully wide before the first two inches of his steel rod sank inside me.

A low, throaty growl surprised Gustaf and my husband who had wiped his tears and was agog at my performance. A flicker of anger in his face was replaced by jealously and then more rage, but Tom held his tongue and kept to his seat as instructed.

Carla and Emma held me aloft until I stared down at Gustaf. When I placed my palms on his chest they gradually released my weight and I slid, slowly and inexorably, down the biggest shaft to ever grace my pink cathedral.

I grunted, then moaned like a whore when bottoming out on Gustaf's cock. I leaned down and French kissed him, mostly to convey my sincere gratitude for his cock and because he gave it to me.

Tom gasped and I judged that didn't amount to interference, so I continued my journey on the biggest cock ever to fuck me. My friends helped me slide back up Gustaf's ten inch giant but only to half way because that's all I needed to fuck. I began pounding up and down his shaft, watching it cream like a squirting aerosol bottle on apple pie.