Statute of Limitations

Did you ever turn on the news expecting to see something about Egypt or Afghanistan and see a national newscaster talking about your hometown? And not just your hometown but the apartment complex where you lived and the high school where your wife was a teacher!

Well that happened to me six months ago when I was on a business trip to San Diego. My name is Paul Morgan and my wife, Chris, is an English teacher at Central High in our community in upstate New York. We got married right out of college six years ago. Chris was kinda wild in college but she settled down and made a great wife. I found a good job with a national computer company and I have had two promotions since I started with them. Our marriage is a happy one.

We live in a very nice apartment complex with a gym and indoor pool and a great group of people. The manager of our complex, Bill Zinneman, is a capable and friendly guy about fifty years old and divorced. We often have a drink together at Charlie's Bar across the street. And Bill's name was featured prominently in the news report that was so shocking.

I called Chris that Friday night and she filled me in on what happened. She sounded real strange but that was not surprising considering what had happened. The story was simple but outrageous.

Bill Zinneman was checking an air conditioner that had malfunctioned and he discovered a stack of eight by ten color photographs. The pictures showed two women, both teachers at Central High in various poses naked and having sex with five male students from Central High. The apartment belonged to one of the gals in the pictures.

When I got back that Saturday evening, Chris was relaxed and pleasant and not nearly as upset as I expected. I think she may have taken some puffs off a joint. She filled me in on the details. The teachers were friends of hers. The students came to the apartment a couple of afternoons each week, smoked pot, and had sex with the teachers.

I had followed the story as closely as I could, although I had to leave on business trips several times. Chris always saved the papers for me. After a couple of weeks the news died down but Chris kept me informed from gossip at the school.

The parents didn't want the boys to testify in court and I could understand that. Everybody was lawyered up and nobody was talking. But the pictures provided all the evidence necessary. It still took several months while they argued about the exact charges, but finally the District Attorney accepted a plea bargain and the teachers went to prison.

I had a chance to hear more from Bill Zinneman as we were regulars at Charlie's Bar. Apparently the pictures had been really graphic with the gals getting fucked in every position and giving blowjobs as well. Sometimes sucking a cock and getting fucked at the same time and sometimes taking it up the ass. Those were really wild parties.

He laughed and joked about it and after my initial shock I laughed with him. We both regretted not having teachers like that when WE were in high school.

Meanwhile I got a job offer from our branch in San Diego. It was a good offer and Chris kept urging me to take it but I was having a tough time making up my mind. School had let out for the summer and Chris pointed out that this would make the move easier.

My world came crashing down one Saturday afternoon about six months after the whole thing started. I was updating my spreadsheet when Chris came in looking very serious.

"We have to talk," she said. "And I think we both need a drink first."

"Can it wait till I finish this spreadsheet?" I asked.

Chris looked at her watch and shook her head. "No. It can't wait. I've put this off as long as I can."

What the hell was this about I wondered? She looked really serious.

She poured us each a double shot of single malt scotch and added a little water. We sat on the couch in the study next to the master bedroom. She wasted no time finishing her drink and then she told me an incredible story.

"This is very hard to tell you. I was hoping we would move to San Diego and I wouldn't have to, but it's too late now. That Friday morning, six months ago, when the police came to the school to arrest those teachers, I knew it was going to happen. And I was afraid that I might be arrested with them. I was terrified!"

"You see," she continued, "it was THREE teachers at those sex parties, not just two. The boys' lawyers never let them testify under oath. Nobody talked, so it never came out. That third teacher was me."

I finished the rest of my scotch in one gulp. I started to pour another and then didn't because I told myself I'd better stay sober. But the pictures Bill Zinneman and I had laughed about in Charlie's Bar started flashing through my head and they were no longer funny − they were very ugly.

"Jesus! You had sex parties with high school boys?"

She nodded her head and said softly, "Yes."

"Why the hell did you do that?" I yelled.

"I don't know," she said, almost whispering. "I really don't."

"At least tell me how it got started," I said.

This was so incredible I had trouble believing it. How could my wife have done this?

She dropped her head and stared at the floor and mumbled out the story. It was ugly.

"It started off with us getting high to relieve some of the tension we were having at school with the new curriculum the state put in. After a hard day at school, Lois and I went to Carolyn's apartment to smoke pot. It helped us relax. I didn't for a single minute intend it to end up the way it did. It just did and ... well you know how I am when I get high. I lose control."

"Yeah I know you do," I said.

"Well, one afternoon two kids knocked on the door after we were stoned and Carolyn let them in. Both were in my Honors English class. I have no idea WHY they stopped by. As I think back my guess is that they had been there before. Shit! Carolyn was almost forty − over twice their age!"

"Anyway, they got stoned with us and Carolyn took them both into the bedroom and left the door open. She stripped down buck-naked for them and one guy started fuckin her while the other guy watched and waited his turn. The way they were acting I'm sure she'd fucked 'em before. I should have walked out right then, but I didn't."

"Why didn't you?" I asked.

"I don't know. Because I was stoned I guess. Anyway Lois watched Carolyn fuck for a while and then she went in and stripped down and started to fuck the other guy. I don't think she had done that before. She was just stoned out of her mind."

"I was stoned out of my gourd too and you know how horny I get when I'm stoned. I don't remember how it happened − darling I really don't − but the next thing I knew I was fucking this kid from my Honors English class."

Didn't know how it happened? Bullshit! It happened because she wanted to fuck! When she got stoned she fucked like a mink. That's how I fucked her in college and I know several other guys that got her stoned so she'd fuck. Jesus! Is she still doing that?

"The next week three guys showed up after I was real stoned and I fucked all three of them. Just fucked 'em one after the other. It sounds hard to believe but I was having orgasms big time fucking high school kids!"

"Why didn't you quit going to Carolyn's apartment?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "After those three guys I just felt trapped. And pretty soon it was five guys and the fifth guy was a picture taker and could print out color pictures on his Dad's computer. After the sex got started he'd take pictures."

"He always cleaned up his camera and his Dad's computer after he printed the pictures so his Dad never found them. It went on for about four months, usually twice a week, before Bill found the pictures in that air conditioner where Carolyn hid them."

"So you kept going back for four months even when you knew you'd get fucked after you got stoned. Why did you do that?" I asked.

"I don't know. I really don't know. I felt trapped somehow. Just compelled to go back," she said almost pathetically.

Trapped hell I thought. She wanted to fuck!

"And you fucked those kids for several hours?" I mumbled, astonished by what I had heard her say. "What did you do?"

"You really don't wanna hear that," she said.

"Yeah! I really DO want to hear that," I responded.

She looked down at the floor and said very softly, "Okay. There were five of 'em and each one wanted to do all three teachers every time. It was a macho thing to do three teachers in a row. So I always fucked five guys to start. I was stoned and having orgasms with each one."

"And usually several guys wanted seconds with me and the other girls. An eighteen year-old peter gets hard again real fast after it spurts and it spurts a lot. There was a hell of a lot of fucking. And we did a lot of other stuff too. Stuff I don't wanna tell you about."

I knew about the stuff she didn't want to talk about. Bill and I had laughed and joked about it drinking at Charlie's Bar, when I didn't know I was laughing at my own wife. It's not so funny now.

"Twice a week?" I asked.

She nodded her head and said, "Usually twice. Sometimes only once."

I just sat there in shock at what she told me. Then it hit me and I asked, "How come the cops didn't arrest you too?"

"That's the second part of what I have to tell you. It's just as difficult to tell you as the first part. The morning he found them, Bill Zinneman separated out all the pictures that had me in them and held them back along with some of the other juicy ones. That afternoon before he turned them in to the cops, he caught me in the lobby as I came in from school. It was a Thursday. You were in San Diego."

"He took me up to his office and showed me the pictures. The deal was simple. He wouldn't turn in the pictures of me as long as I fucked him. Well, I fucked him Thursday afternoon in that bed," she said pointing to our bedroom.

"He turned in the pictures of Carolyn and Lois to the cops Thursday night. The cops came to the school Friday morning."

"I fucked him again Friday after I got home from school. We were naked in bed fuckin when you called. And I fucked him all day Saturday while you were flying back from San Diego. That's the first time I smoked a joint with him. It's better that way because I cum quicker. I figured if I had to fuck him I might as well enjoy it. And I've been fucking him several times a week ever since."

"That's six months!" I said.

"Yes Paul. I been fuckin him for six months," she said softly, staring down at the floor.

Shit! I thought. Four months for the kids and six months for Bill make ten months and we've only lived here for a year!

She looked anxiously at her watch.

"We don't have much time," she said. "Last night he laid it on the line. He said he wasn't gonna sneak around any more or wait till you were out of town to enjoy pussy. He wanted to fuck me whenever he felt like it. He said you had as much invested as I did. You'd just have to put up with it and keep your mouth shut he said. He'll be here in a few minutes and I'm gonna fuck him!"

I was stunned! I couldn't think of anything to say. My mind almost exploded. Then I realized there was only one thing to say.

"I'll kill the son of a bitch!"

I jumped up and ran toward the safe where I had a thirty-eight special. Chris knew exactly what I had in mind. She screamed at me and I stopped and turned and looked at her.

"You shoot him and they'll find those pictures and we'll BOTH go to prison. I'll be a whore and you'll be just another pretty boy and you'll find out what it feels like to have a big cock shoved up your ass. I've read that guys get to like it after a few weeks − just like a woman learns to like it. And I KNOW what I'm talking about baby, so leave that damn gun in the safe!"

She was right of course. I sat back down helpless. Thinking, she's so beautiful and I don't want to lose her. I'll take that job in San Diego. That bastard can't afford many cross-country trips.

Would he really turn those pictures over to the police? What's he got to lose? He can say he found another stack of pictures somewhere else. He held back some of the others so what he turns in wouldn't be only pictures of Chris. And he wouldn't turn 'em in if we moved to San Diego because he could still go out there and fuck her when he could afford the travel.

She looked at her watch again, got up, and went into the bedroom. She opened the dresser drawer, took out a joint, and lit it.

As she blew out the first puff she said, "He'll be here in a few minutes and I like to be stoned when I fuck him. When I'm stoned I cum a lot. I didn't get stoned those first two times. I was wide awake and so scared of getting arrested that I almost didn't cum."

Then her voice got soft and sweet, "Honey I'm really sorry about all of this, but I gotta fuck or go to prison. Just pretend it's somebody else fuckin him not me. And it really is somebody else because I'm not me when I get stoned."

"Now I gotta get naked for him. He always wants me naked right away," she said walking into the master bedroom and closing the door, puffing hard on that joint. She'll be out of it when he fucks her, I thought.

The doorbell rang just as she closed the door. It was a grinning Bill Zinneman. I let him in and we sat on the same couch where Chris told me that horrible story a few minutes ago. He had a large envelope under his arm.

"Did she tell you?" He asked, still grinning.

I had trouble looking him in the eye. I just nodded.

He opened the envelope and took out a colored glossy print.

Handing it to me he said, "Be careful with it. It's one of my favorites."

It was a color photo of Chris, bent over getting fucked doggie style by a kid. The kid was grinning and waving at the photographer. Chris had that pot-induced horny grin that I knew so well in college and she was also waving. She was buck naked except for four-inch spike heels. Her large breasts were hanging down and I could see her hairy beaver clearly. She was beautiful!

"Check out those tits," Bill said. "You never get to see 'em from that angle. Remember Paul it's those tits that kept your wife out of prison. If Lois had had those tits I'd be fuckin her and Chris would be locked up now."

Bill laughed. I didn't say anything. I thought that picture said it all. I was wrong. There was more.

"I don't know where that kid's dick is," he said with a chuckle. "When I got her, her asshole was nice and friendly. Those guys had stretched it out for her. I do her in the ass a lot. She likes it that way. She told me you never did her that way Paul. You ought to try it. That asshole is real user-friendly. You might discover that you like it as much as she does."

I just sat there as he taunted me. This was the friend I drank scotch with at Charlie's so many times in the last six months while he was fucking my wife.

"You wanna see some more pictures?" Bill asked, holding up the envelope. "I got some of her doin two guys at once − mouth and pussy both full of cock at the same time. I got one with her bent over taking it up the ass where you can see that cock stretching out her asshole and she's looking back smiling."

I shook my head no and just stared at that damn picture He was right. Her smile didn't tell me where that kid's cock was.

"Now are you gonna be a nice guy and let us use your bedroom to fuck when we need it or are you gonna cause trouble?"

I just sat there silently staring at the floor. I was helpless. I couldn't seem to face the bastard.

"I'll take that as meaning you're gonna be a nice guy."

"Talk to me Paul," he said firmly. "I'm gonna be fucking your wife regular in your own bed right there. And I'm gonna be doin it till the Statute of Limitations runs out about ... well ... I gotta check but it depends of whether any of those kids was under eighteen."

Then he pointed at our master bedroom.

"Right there!" He repeated. "That's where I been fuckin her and I'm gonna fuck her there again in a few minutes."

"So now you got three choices. I can leave the door open so you can watch us fuck. I can close the door so you can listen to us fuck − you got a noisy bitch there Paul. Or you can go over to Charlie's Bar and drink scotch while you think about us fucking. I'm gonna be up here several times a week so you try it different ways and figure out what works best for you."

Then he laughed. He got up and walked over to the bedroom door and opened it.

"Come out here baby. I want to show your husband why you're not in prison."

Chris walked out of the bedroom and stood before me as I sat on the couch. My God! She was beautiful! She was stark naked wearing those same four-inch spikes I had seen in that damn picture. Spikes that made her long legs look magnificent. Her body was sun bronzed to perfection. Her figure was perfect. The sharp outlines of her milky white bikini protected skin were striking. Below her flat belly her dark, curly haired beaver hid what I knew to be an extra large and very sensitive clitoris.

But it was her breasts that were the most impressive − large 36D beauties, firm with huge nipples − erect and pointing straight out. Unbelievably gorgeous!

"Hands behind your head baby, elbows back," Bill said. "Show us your tits!"

Chris assumed that classic pose and her breasts were even more beautiful than before. My God she was lovely! I wanted to keep her.

She had that pot-induced grin on her face that signaled she was really stoned − way out there in fantasyland. She was someone else. As stoned as she was, she was going to enjoy fucking this bastard. She could fuck anybody when she was stoned.

This was not my wife. This was a whore who had taken over her body and I wouldn't get my wife back till the pot wore off.

Suddenly a shocking thought hit me! Hit me hard! Maybe I wouldn't ever get my wife back. Maybe my wife was a figment of my imagination. Maybe what I'd married was a whore who became a better whore on pot. I needed to think about that.

Bill walked behind her. He reached around and took her breasts in his hands and jiggled them gently as she grinned at me.

"These are why your wife is here fucking me and not in prison with those other two whores. She's my private whore now Paul. Okay baby, let's go fuck."

He turned and walked into the bedroom starting to undress as he went. Chris followed him eagerly, her breasts jiggling as she trotted in those spikes. When she got to the door she stopped, turned around, and looked back at me. She kicked off her spike heels and stood barefooted − feet wide apart.

Then she grinned and giggled and said, "Wanna watch us do it honey?"

She was ready to entertain her husband by fucking another man. I shook my head no and she turned and ran barefoot eagerly to bed closing the door as she went.

I was gonna have to put up with this several times a week for at least two months before I could complete the arrangements for that new job in San Diego. He'd still fuck her there but it would be expensive pussy considering the cross-country airfare.

I need to think this thing through while I'm sober. Is my wife really a whore? She fucked at least five or six guys in college that I know about and each time she was stoned. Does college-fucking count?

How about since we got married. There was that time right after we got back from our honeymoon that I always wondered about. We went to a pot party and she disappeared for an hour. I thought that she might be with an old boyfriend who had fucked her before on pot. That night she took a tub bath, not a shower, before she came to bed. Yeah, I thought, she probably got fucked.

She went to a lot of pot parties when I traveled on business and twice a friend said he thought she might be fuckin. I told him I didn't believe him and he didn't talk about it again. I was looking the other way I guess and not wanting to believe it.