The Tank

"What was that smell?" You thought as you pulled the sweater over your head. It was a mild chemical smell. It was not pungent or unpleasant and was barely discernable unless the fabric was against your nostrils. It was just out of the usual.

Your man had you hand over what you would be wearing the night before for approval, and you had been surprised when he agreed to the conservative sweater and pants combination. Normally, he made you wear plunging necklines and short skirts when you went some place in public together. As much as he enjoyed seeing other men admire your cleavage or ass, he got just as much a thrill from watching you tug down at your hemline or up at your neckline as you subconsciously tried to cover up self-consciously. You had good reason for wanting to cover up for this particular event, but he wouldn't care about that. Nevertheless, you were just relieved when his only requirement was that you not wear any bra or panties. The sweater was loose and thick enough that it wouldn't be too apparent that your breasts were not restrained, and, if your nipples got chilled, they wouldn't stick out much through the bulky cloth. A little chaffing of your nether region was a small price to pay.

"I'm ready." You called out to your husband who was waiting in the living room to go to the event.

"Come here." He said. "We've got a little time." He was standing in front of the picture window on the street side of your house. You complied and went to stand in front of him. As you were giving him a little kiss, you heard a "ZIPPP" as he pulled down the zipper on his trousers. You took this as your cue to go to you knees and fish his semi-flaccid member out of his khaki slacks. His cock swelled inside your mouth immediately. If the mailman, Seventh Day Adventists, or a traveling salesman had come to your door just then, they would have had the show of their lives, because there was nothing but glass between you sucking off your hubby and prying eyes.

"Yeah, baby. Make me cum. All your co-workers are going to smell my cum on your breath at this thing." He said as he impaled your mouth with his stiff cock and messed up your straight black hair with his big meaty hands that seized your skull. Within moments he was shooting a stream of his viscous essence into your mouth. "Don't swallow yet. Not until I tell you to."

He helped you up, and you went together out to the car in the drive. It was harder to hold the mouth load of your man's creamy glob than you would have thought. Your mouth started to create saliva, and the impulse to swallow was strong. Finally, as he turned out of the subdivision, he spoke. "You can swallow it now."

You did as you were told.

The event was a charity event to raise funds for disaster relief. While it was all co-workers and a few spouses, it just happened to be a cause near and dear to your husband's heart. Your bosses had rented out a recreation facility just for the event, and it was part casino night, part competitive games, and a few other usual suspects of fund-raising - including a kissing booth and a dunk tank. The dunk tank was why you had particularly wanted to dress conservatively. Any participant could pay $10 per ball for up to three balls, and have an opportunity to dunk the employee of his or her choice. One sat on a ledge suspended over a tank of water that was about shoulder deep, and if the philanthropist could hit a target mounted on a swing arm they would drop you into the drink. It was mostly the upper management types who were at risk, and it was a long shot that anyone would pick on you. In fact, when you started to bring a towel and a change of clothes, your husband had told you to stop being ridiculous and to put them away.

However, as soon as you got to the party and started to mingle, he started to plant the idea in all the men's heads that it would be worth their while to spend $30 to try to dunk you. Part of you wrote this off as playful teasing because that was his tone, but there was a sly edge to his jovial expression. It was not long before there were three employees signed up to take a shot at you. So that a crowd could gather to watch, they conducted all the dunks at once about two hours into the three hour event, and they shut down some of the other activities during that period.

After a couple upper-middle management types were dunked - the second one twice, it was your turn. You sat on the cold and wet metal ledge that was still moist from the last individual's ordeal. You were surprised how cold the seat got so quickly through your dark cotton slacks. Of course, the two previous individuals had brought towels and a change of clothing. You prayed for nine bad throws. You knew that you should taunt the pitchers as the previous dunkees had done in order to break their concentration, but, somehow, you couldn't find your voice. You were too nervous. The few insults you got out were hesitant and felt feeble.

You flinched with each pitch. The first pitcher missed with his first two throws. He was clearly concentrating during the last throw. When the third ball hit the target there was no bracing for impact. Your seat just fell away and you were momentarily completely under water. You pushed up when your feet touched the bottom, and your head broke the surface while you took a deep breath. Your eyes were pinched shut with the stinging of the heavily chlorinated water. There was an odd tingling sensation on your skin, and you rubbed your eyes with your fists reflexively to ease the burn and get the water out. When you opened your eyes blurrily, you immediately noticed a discoloration of the water, and there was something floating in your peripheral vision. You looked at it. It was a misshapen patch of cloth floating on the undulating water, and it appeared to be breaking apart.

It was then that you looked down, and through murky water saw that the odd sensation you had felt was your clothing sloughing off. You could see the outline of your bare breasts in the water. You then looked up and saw that everybody could faintly see the same thing. They were seeing your nude form in the water that had grown murky with the dissolved fibers of your entire ensemble. Some of the crowd members were mortified, and others seemed enthralled. You looked to your husband for assistance, but he just smiled a wicked grin. You then realized the full extent of his duplicity. You understood why he had let you wear the decidedly unsexy outfit, and why he had been so eager to get men, in particular, to bid on the chance to dunk you.

Instead of offering to find you cover, which others had looked around to do. He gestured for you to get back up in the seat for the next donor to have his shot at you. The other two, however, forfeited their donation, because they could not bring themselves to further participate in your humiliation. Your hubby, on the other hand, had no such reservations, and gestured for you to come out of the tank and over to where he was standing with two guys from your office, one from Human Resources, Jack, and the other from Marketing and Communications, Ted. Jack seemed embarrassed for you, and averted his eyes from your body and even from your face. Your husband kept talking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Ted, who you knew quite well, was looking you up and down. Your husband noticed the same thing you had when you looked down bashfully. Ted had a tent in his pants. By this time, a female co-worker was approaching with an overcoat to put it over your shoulders. Everyone was trying to figure out how your clothing had just disintegrated into the water. Some expected you had done it on purpose, and others, presciently, suspected your husband. Those who your husband had tried to talk into dunking you thought of him immediately. However, most of the crowd sympathetically thought that you were the victim of some freak wardrobe failure. Perhaps it was too much chlorine or fabrics too delicate.

You had been exposed for all to see. Some looked away, some stared, and other engaged in sidelong cautious glances, but all the people you worked with had seen every inch of your alabaster skin- even if only for an instant. They'd seen the trimmed landing strip that had once been exclusively for your husband to find his way.

"Why don't you wait in the car? I need to finish my talk with Ted." Your husband said to you as he looked you up and down slowly himself. If he could have gotten away with it, he clearly would have made you stand there naked for the next hour until the event ended for his own enjoyment of your discomfort.

You sat in the car by yourself for about ten or fifteen minutes. When your husband got into the car your arms were crossed across your body as you clutched the donated overcoat to your body to keep the front shut. He said nothing as you drove home, and neither did you. Your mind was still swimming. How would you face everyone on Monday morning? You contemplated never showing up again, but knew you would have to. It was too awful of a job market to try to go elsewhere. Furthermore, it wasn't that big of a community. You'd have to come to grips with the fact that while you were talking to any of your co-workers they might be picturing you, quite accurately, without a stitch of clothing.

"Lose the coat." Your husband said as you entered the house right behind him. He sat down in an overstuffed chair and gestured for you to have a seat next to his feet by his chair. You did as directed.

"Bing-Bong" The doorbell rang within minutes of when you took a seat.

"Get the door." Your husband said. You reached for the coat slung over the couch-back, but he shook his head. So you went and tentatively opened the door to see Ted from Communications looking you over hungrily.

"Come in and have a seat, Ted." Your husband said.

Ted sat down in a chair across from your husband. You went to your husband's chair, and, at his direction, sat down on his lap. His cock swelled against the slight grinding of your soft smooth buttocks. "Well, dear, it turns out that Ted is a true philanthropist. He gave $500 to the charity tonight." Your husband said.

"Well, it wasn't pure philanthropy." Ted said.

"That's right. You know what I told Ted while you were waiting in the car?" Your husband asked.

"No." You said meekly.

"I said that for a $50 donation he could use your mouth, for $100 donation he could fuck your pussy, and for $500 he could use you however he pleased. You think that's fair, right?" Your husband asked, and he reached around between your legs to rub your pussy, which was rapidly growing ready. Ted's covetous eyes followed the hand's motion.

"Yes." You said.

"Good. Because it's time for us to make good on our part of the bargain." Your husband said. "Go; do as you're told."

Ted said: "Suck me." He slouched in the chair so you could unzip and access the boner that he apparently hadn't lost since you were revealed earlier in the evening. You did as you were directed. You unbuckled, unzipped, and then pulled his pants down enough that you could let his cock spring free from the white cotton undies. You took the smooth hard meat in your mouth, and sucked.

"Man, this is a dream come true. I've wanted to stick my cock in your wife's mouth so many times." Ted said.

"She does suck a mean dick, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yeah." Ted slid his hand beneath your dark tresses, and hooked his hand around the back of your neck. He forced your head down roughly, and your eyes watered as you gagged on the hard staff.

"OK. Get up and turn around." Ted said to you. You did as you were told, and let Ted usher you into position to sit your pussy down onto his swollen shaft. "It looks like your old man likes to see you fucked like a little whore." Ted was referring to the fact that your husband had his own meat out in his hand and was stroking himself to the sight of his wife being taken by another man. Your man's cock head was a deep purple. He seemed to really get off on the sight before him as he stroked himself with strong grip.

You began to ride up and down on Ted's cock. Intense horniness overwhelmed any earlier shy embarrassment on your part. Ted reached around and fingered your clit as you bounced up and down on his cock like you were riding a horse at full gallop. Ted's rubbing of your most tender part brought you to the edge of climax quite rapidly. This was not helped by the fact that you were somehow incredibly aroused by how excited your husband got by whoring you out.

"I never knew you were such a little fuck whore." Said Ted, as he felt you squirm. Then he spoke to your husband. "Do you want her pussy, I'm about to butt-fuck her." He then eased you up off his member, and realigned. Ted breached your tight backside with no small effort and pulled you back so your back was on his chest as he wriggled his shaft deeper into your anal orifice. Your husband wasted no time in rubbing his shaft along your already slick slit, and then plowed into your pussy roughly. Ted's dick burned in your ass, but the combination of the two dicks jostling against a whole range sensitive nerve centers simultaneously shot intense waves of pleasure through your body. Ted called out loudly with his mouth near your ear as he came in a wave of shooting spasms. He then just let his cock grow limp in you as your husband continued to fuck you intensely.

"How was her ass?" Your husband asked Ted.

"Shouldn't you be worried that I'm going to bend her over her desk five times a week and breach load her now that I know what a whore for cock she is?" Ted asked.

"No. She's completely obedient. She won't let you fuck her if I don't tell her to." Your husband said through panting breaths as he worked up a healthy second nut of the day. That nut came when your pussy began to tremble into spasms. This was causing Ted's cock to grow once more.

The night was still young, and all agreed that $500 should buy more than a solitary creaming of your ass, so the three of you retired to the bedroom for the night.