The Booster Club

Dammit! I've had it! I'm going to get to the bottom of this booster club crap. Marcie had just left for their quarterly meeting. As usual she had ravished me like a wild beast in heat for the last week and was bursting with excitement as she left. "Be home late Sunday. I'll try to call, but things are so crazy.... We'll see. I'll miss you. Love you." And gone. Something was rotten in Denmark as they say. And this weekend I was going to find out.

I'm sorry. I just sort of jumped in there and you're probably a little perplexed. Don't blame you. So let me back up.

I'm John. My wife is Marcie. Married six years, both in our late twenties, two girls age 5 and three. We were planning on the third, but Marcie put the plans on hold. Good jobs. Nice house and we even have plenty of debt and the obligatory golden retriever. We have sex a few times each week, mix it up and try new things. I thought it was satisfactory for both of us. I, for one, have no complaints. Both of our folks live close by so we have baby sitters for date nights, even weekends. I buy her flowers for no reason, remember all the critical dates like birthday, anniversary, Valentine's, etc. and make sure she likes the gifts I get her. She seemed happy, content, until a year ago.

Sorry, jumped ahead, again. There is one big difference between us: football. American football that is, not soccer. Heck, I like football. I played in high school. But I went to a small school for my business degree and MBA. I went to the games, but we got killed almost every Saturday. The goal was to see how little we could lose by. I graduated and didn't think much about it any more.

Marcie, on the other hand, went to State. Big school, always seemed to have a winning season. She was and still is an avid fan. It's about three hours away, so not too far, but easier to go and spend the night. We go to a number of the games, but the kids (and the dog) have kind of made things more complicated.

When I say Marcie is a fan... MARCIE IS A FAN! She has decals on her car, on our front door, a flag in the front yard, mugs with the team's logo, she knows who's on the team, all the stats, on and on. I'm ok with that. Whatever makes her happy. She's even a member of the booster club. It used to be a twice annual Saturday meeting. Informal get together for members and spouses in the mornings, organized lunch, meetings all afternoon, then dinner and dancing. We would drive up Saturday morning, she would go to the meeting while the rest of us found something to do and then have a fun time with everyone for the evening. We usually stayed overnight and tried to put some wear on the mattress since we were away from the kids. Sounds like fun, right?

But a year or so ago, Marcie became very upset. Membership was down, sponsors were down, donations were down and she felt something needed to be done. The something was that she became president, meetings became quarterly. Instead of Saturday, they became Saturday morning and Sunday which meant she had to leave Friday. She added executive meetings (pres., VP, secretary and treasurer) quarterly as well. So every six weeks or so she was gone.

She used to stay at the VP's house for the executive meetings. I went once. Nice guy. Nice wife. Nice family. The other guys were nice, too. They all lived near State. For the next meeting, though she rented a hotel room for Friday night because 'she was meeting with other boosters' before their Saturday exec. meeting.' Last time she rented a room for Friday and Saturday and came back dragging.

A year ago, she would come home from the semiannual meetings enthused, excited and ready to jump in the sack once the kids went to bed (early). But now she comes back completely exhausted and instead of having catch up sex, she usually begged off for several days or said she had just started her period. Horse crap. Somehow the meetings are never scheduled when it is that time of the month.

So, would you be suspicious? Would you worry about what was going on at the meetings? What would you do?

Well, I told her I was going to the last one. Instead of ravishing me, she seemed so nervous and anxious I was afraid we would have to get professional help. 'Nothing's wrong! I'm fine! Quit asking." I'm sure some of you folks have been there. So I quit asking. We drove down Friday evening, checked in, had dinner, and schmoozed with others that were there. On Saturday, we met for the informal mixer in the morning and then the boosters went to lunch with the official meeting at noon and smaller meetings until banquet time. I was roped into a golf outing with some of the boosters. Instead of going to a course close by, they selected one an hour away, then decided to have drinks, and somehow we got back just in time for the banquet.

Marcie was in the shower and looked like used goods. 'It was a just a tough meeting. Lots of tough decisions and heated discussions.' We went to dinner, she gave a speech, blah, blah. No dancing, all mixing and chit chat. I don't know about you, but I can only take so much before making small talk makes me want to barf. Worse yet, there were a number of innuendos and casual touches. Not bad touches, no grabbing, but just a little, too, personal. Too many kisses on the cheek as we said our good nights. I also noticed that most of the women steered clear. And she was just too worn out for any fooling around. 'Maybe tomorrow.' I kind of knew it wasn't going to happen tomorrow either and probably not the next few days if history repeated.

Sound fishy to you? I know, I know, you would have confronted her and had it out. Demanded the truth. Well, Marcie being Marcie would have simply gone on the offensive for accusing her of anything and what the hell was wrong with me anyway. Why was I trying to ruin a wonderful weekend for her. So I did what any red blooded American male would do. I didn't say a friggin' word and drove home in silence on Sunday while she dozed.

Monday came, the kids went crazy to see us, she was back to normal, but was going to stop by the drug store to get something 'for a yeast infection' (so, I'm sure sex is out for the rest of the week).

Though she thought things were back to normal and was all aglow about her weekend (membership donors, sponsors all up), I was not. My anger was growing along with my suspicions. Yes, I would try to act as normally as possible, but beneath the surface the storm clouds were building. I did not get much work done. I decided against monitoring her calls. She would be talking to boosters all the time normally. I decided against a GPS to keep tabs on her car. I would know if she disappeared for eight hours to meet with someone. I did get voice activated recording devices to hide in her car and place in our home office (no sense trying the kitchen or elsewhere. The kids would kill the battery in no time).

My biggest investment was one of those tiny cameras that I could clip to my shirt or name tag and hide under my shirt. I paid a lot more to get a high fidelity, good sound quality, long battery life, gigs of memory space, and easy to download to my computer. I tried it out. I loved it. This'll be great for the kids too. Hands free.

I did set up an appointment with a divorce attorney. Explained the situation and my plan to try and catch her in the act so to speak. He agreed to draw up the divorce papers, just in case. After all, I could be way off base (pretty sure I wasn't), gave me a list of to do's and to don'ts. I went to work on the to do's. i wasn't positive about all the to don'ts.

The other thing I did was send my money in and become a booster with 'all the perks and benefits that came along with it.' I lied about my name, opened a post office box and used that address, I lied about the school I went to (hint: it wasn't mine and it wasn't State, but I loved the team so much that I wanted to be a booster and get a discount on season tickets.)

Surprise! My application was accepted, I got my card, my badge, a sticker for my car, access to all the membership files and info online, and a personalized form letter from Marcie herself welcoming me to the boosters and inviting me to the next meeting. 'Make your hotel reservations early. Can't wait to meet you.' Life was good. I was a booster for State. Well, not really.

I set up a million text message lists to all the members, all the spouses, the members of the team, the coaches, managers, Chancellor of State, the Board of the university, and anyone else I could find. I duplicated this for the email lists, just in case. I'll admit, I was worn out. Then it was a waiting game. I decided against going to the executive meeting and waited for the quarterly. I wasn't going to tell Marcie. I was just going to show up. Isn't that fiendish?

I tried to be as normal as possible including in bed. As usual Marcie picked up the pace and her aggressiveness the week before the meeting. It was hell. Not really. By Friday, I was worn out. We had talked about me going with her again, but 'my Dad is sick so we can't take the kids there and your folks are going out of town again. I'm sorry, John, it would be so great to have you there. Everyone likes you so.' And so she left Friday after work.

Hmmmm, I wonder. I called my folks and oddly enough they had no plans to go anywhere. No, Marcie had not called them and, yes, they could come over and stay with the kids on Saturday and stay overnight if need be. Thanks. I called Marcie's folks. No, Marcie had not called. Her dad was not sick. Pretty stupid, Marcie. This is how cheaters get caught.

The schedule showed that there were various committee meetings in the morning on Saturday, followed by the formal big meeting at noon, the informal mixer for the afternoon, then dinner and dancing starting at seven. I decided to show up for the informal mixer. I drove to the hotel at State, dyed my light brown hair black, put on thick framed glasses, opted against the fake beard and mustache (yes, I bought a good set, but I looked too stupid and they wouldn't stay on right), and had pretty generic a clothes no one would notice.

I was ready. But I was only ready physically. Mentally, spiritually, I was falling apart. Was I pissed at my wife? Sure. Was I almost certain that she was cheating on me? Sure. But I loved my wife. She was my best friend. My partner. I loved my life, our life, together. She was a great mother and the kids loved her. I just couldn't understand why she would cheat on us. Yes, she was cheating on the girls as well. Why would she want to risk it? What could be more important than the three of us? She would risk it all to get her rocks off with someone else?

I could only hope that I was wrong. Maybe I was way off base. But my heart told me it was not going to be good. It was breaking, shattering. I wasn't sure if it would ever recover. Maybe I didn't want to find out....

But I, we, needed a resolution. I couldn't go on with the doubts, suspicions. My love was being drained away drop by drop. My heart was being pulled apart bit by bit. I didn't like the current me, the current Marcie, the current us. Marcie was slowly leaving our family. Her focus was leaving us and going elsewhere. I had to find out where and maybe, just maybe find out why.

So, I took some deep breaths, buried my fears and heartache, and went out the door. I looked stupid with my hair, glasses and clothes, but oh, well.

Sporting my badge I went downstairs to the informal mixer. A few men, but mostly women. Weird. I wandered around a bit when I heard a group of women mentioning her name. "Look at this room. Most of the men have gone upstairs to have a go at Marcie. It has increased membership, but I don't know how she does it. Man after man..."

"And in any and all holes, they say" one of the others said.

"Shit, I would look like I road a mule nonstop from here to Dallas. I would walk bow legged for a month, " said the third.

"Her husband is either the most trusting soul in the world, or something. Hell he must be stupid not to realize something is going on. I wonder why he's not here? Didn't he come to the last one?"

"Yeah, and they dragged him off to Timbuktu to play golf so he wouldn't get wind of the Marcie show."

"God, that thing of hers must have callouses."

"Fuck, all her holes and her mouth must have callouses," and they all laughed.

I stepped up to the group. "Hi. I'm Jim Jones. I'm a new booster. I heard you mention Marcie. I had to work this morning so missed the meeting at noon and I did want to introduce myself and say 'Hi' to her. They all looked knowingly at each other then at me. A smile crossed their lips.

"Well, Jim, it's great to meet you. I think you'll enjoy being a booster. We do so much for the team... it's just a wonderful thing to give back to the school that gave us so much. What year did you graduate?

"Oh, I didn't go to State. I just love the team and wanted to be more involved. To help out."

"That's wonderful, Jim. You'll get to meet the team, coaches, hang out with all us rabid fans, get discounts on tickets and so much more. You'll love it.

"Marcie is having an informal meeting up in 415. I'm sure she would love to meat you." And they all laughed.

I looked quizzically at them. "But you may be a tad over dressed." They laughed again.

"Well, I hope to have a chance to talk to you all this evening and at the mixer tomorrow," I said to them.

"Oh, Jim, don't mind us. We just like to kid around. Marcie has done a lot for the boosters. We were falling apart and she made us stronger and better than ever. But her methods are a little 'unconventional' If you don't see her upstairs, there is a meeting just for new members in 415 tomorrow at ten. We'll see you tonight, I hope. And welcome once again. So glad to meet you and let us know if there is anything we can do to help you feel like you belong, let us or any of the members know.

"Now go upstairs and take your turn 'meating' Marcie. I'm sure it will be a 'hole' new experience for you." They started laughing again at their private joke.

I gave them another weird look. "Well, I'm off to 415. Thanks." They giggled and talked conspiratorially as I left.

"That poor guy is going to be in for quite a shock when he enters 415. I hope he's not too shocked and quits. He seemed nice," I heard one of them say as I walked towards the elevators. I wasn't feeling any better about this. Worse, in fact. My heart was crumbling with each step. "God, I like Marcie, but she has to be so disease riddled. I feel like I need to wash my hands after we shake."

I went upstairs and started my camera. A group of men was standing in the hall. I stepped up and introduced myself, flashed my name tag, and said, " I missed the noon meeting, I couldn't get off work. I was told Marcie was up here and I would like to meet her. Is she here?"

"Yup. The Marcie show is cranked up and going full bore. Frank is right inside the door. There's already quite a line so he'll give you a number. Let him know your a Newbie and he has a few numbers that can move you up in the line. You can just watch or there is an adjoining suite to put your clothes in if you want to partake."

"Ok, thanks." I went in. Hell, there must have been twenty or more men milling about talking to each other and forming a tight circle around the bed.

"Hi, I'm Frank. Here's your number. Oh, wait, you're new right? First time?" I nodded. Well, here's a lower number so you don't have to wait as long. Pick any hole. All of Marcie is amazing. Once you're done, you can watch or come back out here until they rotate through and call your number again. You can go as many times as you want. Marcie will keep going until everyone is done or until around 6:00 when she has to get ready for the banquet. She does the same thing tomorrow for the new guys after the orientation and welcome for the new members. Smaller crowd. You may like it better.

"I have no idea how she does it! It's amazing. Ok, listen for your number. And welcome to the boosters."

I eased through the circle. I thought I was prepared, but no way! There was my wife naked, on the bed, with three men in her. Marcie humping and sucking with enthusiasm and abandon. Others were beating off and cumming on her. It was a porno nightmare. Like the craziest orgy scene you've ever seen on the internet. My knees buckled. I felt I was going to vomit.

"Marcie, look. It's just like our executive meetings. VP in your mouth, the secretary in your puss, and the treasurer in your ass. Of course there it's just the three of us doing the circuit."

She took his cock from her mouth, "That's nice, George, but hurry and finish so the next guy can take a turn. I get to suck your cock plenty of times. And that goes for you other two as well," she said to the guy sucking her beautiful full C breasts and the guy in her ass. She then crammed the cock down her throat.

Shit, Marcie gave great blow jobs, but she would never deep throat me. She said it made her gag and she would vomit, but here she was sucking it down with no effort at all. Saliva leaking from her mouth, running down her chin. Barely a tear and only a rare gag.

And a cock in her ass...she would let me put a finger in, sometimes, but had turned down any and all discussions of putting my dick in there. Who was this person? She was a woman possessed. As if on cue, "Oh, fuck, I'm cumming again! Harder, Mike, harder. Break my ass and make it hurt." He rammed her ass harder. She slammed down onto the guy below her burying him to the hilt at the same time the guy behind her buried his cock in her ass. She moaned with each thrust. As she moved forward on the cock in her puss, the cock in her mouth rammed down her throat. It was brutal, but she was loving it.

A deep moan started somewhere inside of her and she started to scream around the cock in her mouth. She shuddered and trembled, then collapsed saying, "Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is great. I need more. More." The others finished, spilling their juices into her already sloppy holes. They obviously weren't the first of the day. Inpatient guys were still jerking it and cumming on her face, hair, body. Numbers were called and the next three moved in took up positions and started going at it. Marcie had recovered and was assisting enthusiastically.

"That's it guys, make it hurt. Fill me quick. You can always go again." She would sometimes grab a cock with a hand and jerk it. Incredible how she could coordinate all those motions at once. Deep in the pussy, down the throat, push back butt to pelvis sinking the cock deep in her ass. And jerk the guy next to her. A veritable fucking machine.

I looked at her hand. She had cum all over her wedding ring. Our wedding ring. Why? Why would she do this to me? To the girls? Hell, to herself? What was missing in her life?

Just then the crowd behind me shifted and I was pushed forward towards Marcie. Her hand was over the side of the bed to stabilize herself. My hand landed on hers to catch my fall and I took the opportunity to slide the ring off. There was so much cum, there was no resistance at all. No one noticed. Marcie never missed a beat.

I backed up turned off the video. Enough. I took a number of shots of the participants. Those clothed and unclothed. I walked towards the door. "Going so soon? You didn't even get one go at her."

"Yea, too crowded. I'll do it tomorrow after the orientation for new guys. There are fewer then, right?"

"Yup. That's probably a good way to start if you've never done anything like this before. Nice meeting you. And welcome to the boosters."

I was in a daze. I stumbled back to my room for a while and lay down and cried. My world was gone, destroyed. And for what? The fucking booster club? I took a shower and washed out the temporary hair dye so the girls wouldn't see it. Threw out the glasses. I checked out and made my way home. To be honest, I don't remember the drive at all.