I'm Married

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Married woman ambushed at a dance.
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Ashson
Ashson
8,503 Followers

I'd only been married a few months and we hadn't been able to get away long for a honeymoon, although the time we did have was quite interesting. So I was highly delighted to win a long weekend out on a dude ranch. Three days and two nights, all meals included.

John and I went and it was fun. We went riding and fishing, although I'd just have soon skipped the fishing. Worms, ugh. On the second evening they were having a barn dance, a real old fashioned square dance with a fiddler and dance caller and such.

All the women had to wear dresses. No jeans or shorts permitted. It was apparently a big local do, people from the nearby town and the various ranches fronting up.

I had a ball. The first dance was with John, naturally, as would be the last. Meanwhile men seemed to be lining up to dance and flirt with me. One cheeky sod offered to show me a good time outside but I waved my ring at him.

"I'm married and I don't fool around," I told him.

He just grinned, taking it in good part and the dance went on. Later on the same man was dancing with me in a particularly energetic romp and I was quite out of breath when the dance ended.

"Why not just step out for some fresh air?" the guy suggested, and then held up his hands defensively. "I know. You're married and you don't fool around. I'm not suggesting you do. Just a walk in the open air. We'll be in plain sight and it will give you a chance to get your breath before you return to the fray."

I looked around to see where John was. Maybe he'd take a walk with me, because the idea of a break was rather attractive.

"If you're looking for your husband he's over yonder," I was told, the man indicating. "He's having a drink with a couple of my mates."

I promptly spotted John at the bar, glass in hand yakking away with a couple of the locals. I shrugged and let him be.

"OK. A walk would be nice, but I expect you to be a gentleman."

A stroll outside wasn't going to hurt, especially if we stayed in easy sight of the barn. So we ambled around the yard in the moonlight, just chatting with a little bit of flirty innuendo. Not enough to cause problems but enough to keep us both amused.

While we were walking, Guy, his name really was Guy it turned out, suddenly lifted his head and held up a hand for silence. He seemed to be listening to something. I could hear a faint squealing coming from a nearby building.

"Ah, listen," Guy said. "It sounds as though one of the foals might be in trouble. I'll just run you back to the barn and then go and check."

"I didn't know you had foals here," I said.

"In the stables there," he said, indicating a nearby building. "Four of them. I'd better get you back while so I can check."

"Oh, don't waste your time taking me back," I protested. "I can get back by myself. Or maybe I could come and see the foals. I love horses."

He hesitated, then shrugged.

"OK. Come along. But don't try to pet them. They're a little young for that. You can pet the mares, though."

He opened the door to the stable and flicked on the lights. There were a couple of rows of stalls, four to a side. Guy walked briskly down the row between the stalls, checking each side as he went. I followed a lot more slowly, looking at the foals and sweet-talking them.

When I reached the end of the row Guy was standing next to an open stall, smiling.

"All the foals seem fine," he said. "That's a relief. Have you seen this stall?" He nodded to the open stall.

There was a sign above it saying Mare of the Day, but the stall was empty apart from a large amount of straw on the floor.

"What's this stall for?" I asked, "and which one is the mare of the day?"

"You," he said and pushed me into the stall.

I tripped as I went in and finished sprawling on my hands and knees. Before I could squeal or anything Guy had my dress hitched up over my waist and was pulling my panties down.

"Don't bother screaming," he told me. "It's unlikely anyone will hear and if they do they will just think it's one of the horses and will ignore it."

While he was saying this his hand had been busy rubbing my pussy, and then he was stretching my lips apart and would you believe he started taking me. His cock was pushing hard against me, happily making its way up my passage while all I could do was squeal and protest.

"I'm married," I wailed, waving my hand to show the ring.

"I know," Guy said, pushing in deeper. "I brought your husband a drink. Some of the boys are at the bar now buying him drinks. He won't come wandering past if that's what's bothering you."

If that was what was bothering me? Did it occur to him that I just might possibly, maybe, perhaps, be bothered a little by the fact that he was raping me?

"You're raping me," I pointed out. "Stop."

For answer he just started moving back and forth, plunging his cock in deep and then slowly dragging it back.

"If I stopped I wouldn't be raping you, now would I," he pointed out. "What I will do is pause for a few moments."

So thoughtful, he was. The reason he paused was so that he could get my dress off. He undid the buttons at the back and then pushed it up, making me pull it right off. When I demurred he just gave me a sharp prod with his cock and told me to just do it. As you can guess, with my dress gone my bra didn't remain for long. Apparently Guy liked his women naked.

Having me naked, he got down to business. His hands circled me and grabbed my breasts and his cock resumed its interrupted explorations. Guy just happily hammered away, exploiting my poor pussy for all it was worth.

Now I have to admit that even though I was being raped I was moving with him. It wasn't that what was happening was distasteful. As a matter of fact it felt damned good. It was the principle of the thing. Not that I could do anything about that. If I told John he'd go spare and someone would get hurt. I'd just have to suffer in silence.

Not that you could call the feel of that cock bouncing in and out of me suffering. And I don't suppose you can call my gasps and squeaks silence, but I'm sure you know what I mean.

Guy continued on his merry way and the rhythm that we'd established was exciting me. Guy would drive in to meet my hips rising to meet him and I'd squeal and feel the burning deep inside getting hotter with each stroke.

It continued to build until Guy gave a shout of his own and really let loose upon me. A few really fast strokes and I climaxed, feeling Guy coming deep inside me.

I sagged down against the straw, vaguely feeling Guy withdrawing. I just stayed like that for a moment, head down, bum still up.

A mistake on my part, but I wasn't to know it. What I should have been doing was jumping to my feet and looking for a pitchfork to defend myself. The first I knew of my mistake was a couple of hands clamping onto my waist and a cock probing to come into me.

I'm like, "What the fuck?" and some stranger's voice spoke to me.

"I'm Mike. I brought your husband a drink. Now shut up. I don't like to talk while I fuck."

"Oh, excuse me," I snarled. "It's just that I like to protest when I'm being raped."

"Well, protest later. Right now, shut up."

With that, this character, Mike, was going at me hell for leather. He just clamped his hands on my hips and went at it. It was, unusual, you might say. It had none of the erotic appeal that Guy had managed to impart when he ravished me. This clown would have had the same amount of fun masturbating, and I wish he'd chosen to do so. Then he was climaxing, having done absolutely nothing for me. Without a word he got up and departed.

I was just starting to struggle to my feet when there was a voice behind me.

"Nah, nah, you don't want to move just yet, sweetheart," someone said. "Here, let me help you."

Next thing a soft warm cloth was gently wiping me down, while the man just went on talking, calming my somewhat frazzled nerves.

"Just you take it easy for a moment. You'll be fine. I'm Andy, by the way. That bloke John, he's your husband, isn't he? Nice chap. I just brought him a drink. Feeling a little better now, are we, love?"

I had to admit that I did. The chatter and the gentle way he'd helped clean me up, seemingly impersonal, even while he was wiping down my private parts, had all helped, calming my frazzled nerves.

"Right," Andy said. "Now that you're feeling more the part. . ."

His voice died away and his hand was stretching my lips apart and his cock was coming into me.

"What the hell are you doing," I squealed.

"Take it easy, love," he said, sounding hurt. "Just taking my turn is all. Just relax and let it happen. You'll be fine."

He was moving slowly and his hands had already captured my breasts and he was kneading them gently. I found myself falling in with the gentle motions that he'd initiated, rocking softly in place. It was all very pleasant and highly erotic, but still rape. And by the third person in a row.

"What did you mean, it's your turn," I gasped out, already finding all my excitement rising within me again as he slowly took me.

"It's a part of the game, you see," he told me. "Didn't anyone tell you about the game?"

"I hardly think I'd be out here getting raped by a succession of strangers if I knew about your silly game, now would I?" I snapped.

"Ah. Probably not. Not for a first timer anyway. What happens is that when we see a likely piece, such as you, we lure her out to look at the foals. We take turns buying your husband a drink. Anyone who shouts him a drink then comes out to collect their payment. You," he added, as if I hadn't already guessed that.

I was panting slightly now, lust building up inside me. Andy sounded as though he was an older man, which probably explained his expertise with his male weapon. The way he was using it on me I'd guess him to be nearly a hundred and to have been practising since he was a child.

I was practically groaning as he slid his cock in and out, teasing me, his hands touching my breasts and bringing feathery delight to them. I was going to climax, and I was going to climax violently, I could just tell.

That didn't stop a niggling little worry.

"Ah, how many drinks has John had," I managed to gasp.

"Um, he's actually finished three but he's got another three waiting," Andy said, "but you needn't worry. I doubt that he'll stay awake for all six shots of moonshine. Hell, I considered myself lucky that he managed to down mine. If he don't manage to finish your drink it don't count."

To calm my nerves and help me not to worry Andy redoubled his assault on my person. I was a ball of nerves, each one of them singing a siren song, while his cock rampaged through, a satyr visiting each of his ladies.

"This'll help you," I heard him say, and he touched me somehow and I screamed and convulsed, going into this terrible shattering climax, and just passing right out.

When I came out of it Andy was still there, busy cleaning me up again. Wasn't that sweet of him?

"I checked with the boys. Your husband passed out halfway through the sixth drink. You'll only have two more visitors tonight. Feeling better? Good. I'll send in the next one."

Andy left and then another man was approaching. I was wondering if I could appeal to his better nature, and then I saw his better nature was sticking out in front of him. Way out in front. I sighed. It looked as though the night wasn't over yet.

Ashson
Ashson
8,503 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymous11 months ago

sometimes the wife just needs a big cock and i understood that i am not against my wife enjoying a good fuck with a big cock

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

Oh my gosh. This happened to me on my actual honeymoon. It was a Caribbean island and my husband being Frat boy could out drink any ten men, so the line of well hung island studs went on into the morning. He got invited to golf at an exclusive course one day, deep sea fishing another, and to a high stakes poker game yet another. All just excuses to keep the grooms away so the island buoys could fuck all of us brides stupid. There were over a dozen other girls on their honeymoon getting the same treatment. When I told my mother and older sister what happened they reminded me they honeymooned at the same resort. Then I remembered they were the ones that had convinced me I needed to honeymoon there.

AnonymousAnonymousover 2 years ago

not worth reading

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 3 years ago

❤💚❤💚❤

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 3 years ago

I gave you a 4.4 = 88% (🌟🌟🌟🌟+) for this non-consent/reluctance story.

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