When You Marry a Slut...

When I married Stacy, I knew that although she was only twenty, she was very experienced. In high school she was pretty wild. A story went around that at one homecoming party she'd been had by half a dozen football players while the rest of the team cheered her on. Even among my friends, Stacy's charms were well known. At the wedding, my best man and two of my three ushers had all nailed her years before.

When I told people we were getting married, they usually rolled their eyes. Some people warned me outright to keep her on a short leash, other people just smirked stupidly, one of my "friends" even had the bad taste to ask if she still gave good head. But I was convinced Stacy had changed. After all her beautiful long brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and exquisite body made her very desirable. It was only reasonable that she'd been around when she was young and unattached.

Our first few months together were amazing. We got along really well, and the sex was incredible. Stacy wanted it almost every night, and one advantage of her past was that she gave the most incredible blow jobs. What's more she seemed completely faithful, no flirting, no wandering eyes, nothing.

After about six months of marriage things began to change. At first, it was nothing major. One winter morning Stacy and I were sitting down to breakfast. Stacy was wearing a sheer nightie with nothing underneath and a short silk robe. I was making toast when the doorbell rang. Stacy immediately offered to go answer it. A second after she'd left I realized what she was wearing and I went after her.

She already had the door open and she was talking to a couple of kids offering to rake the lawn. They were gawking and stammering as they explained what they wanted. Stacy sent them away with their hormones raging. When she turned around I could see that her robe had been wide open, and that the kids must have been given quite an eyeful. I started to protest about the way she'd just showed herself off, but she just laughed and told me not to be jealous of a couple of kids. For the rest of the winter dozens of local neighborhood kids came to our door to offer to do chores or shovel the walk.

After that I kept noticing little things. We went Christmas shopping at a local mall. At one point Stacy disappeared into in a changing room to try on a new dress. I wandered around the store for a couple of minutes, and when I went back toward the changing rooms, I noticed two guys whispering and pointing. When I looked at what they were muttering about, I noticed that Stacy had left the curtain of her booth half-opened and that her skimpy bra and panties were clearly visible.

I also noticed that Stacy's skirts seems to be getting a bit shorter, and that when she went to work she often had one less button buttoned than modesty suggested. One day I even noticed that Stacy left for work without any panties on. Although all this made me a bit uneasy, I have to admit it turned me on a little, especially as long as it is was just minor exhibitionism. But right before Christmas things got more serious.

Both my office and Stacy's had Christmas parties a couple of days apart. On the day of my office party, Stacy showed up at about five just as the party was beginning. She had really gotten dolled up. Her hair was blown out, and she was wearing a short, clingy, red dress, and very high heels. She was right on the borderline between appearing attractive and looking like a cheap slut.

I have to admit I was a little upset. I would have preferred if she had dressed a bit more conservatively to come to my office. However, after a couple of drinks I relaxed. I have to admit I also was pleased by the reaction to Stacy. Most of my co-workers had never met Stacy and the looks of envy in the eyes of my male colleagues was very satisfying.

We danced and talked and everybody was getting pretty well lubricated. Stacy and I mingled separately for a while. At one point, I noticed Stacy sitting on a desk, surrounded by four of my co-workers talking and laughing. I don't know why, but it made me uncomfortable, maybe they were all sitting a bit too close, maybe the lecherous looks on their faces were a bit too obvious.

As I approached the group, someone told a joke and Stacy laughed loudly, her full breasts jiggling beneath her tight dress drawing their leering eyes to her chest. Stacy's dress had ridden up, exposing an alarming amount of leg, and half-way up her thigh Bruce Gibson's hand rested comfortably. I joined the group just as Bruce finished telling a really smutty joke. Stacy laughed loudly totally unabashed at sitting in a revealing dress, telling dirty jokes with a bunch of guys who'd obviously had a lot to drink.

"This is some little lady you've got here," Bruce said as I approached. He looked me in the eye and then looked down at his hand resting on my wife's thigh making sure I saw his hand. He gave her thigh a short squeeze, making Stacy squirm slightly, before he removed his hand.

Stacy made no effort to pull her dress back down, and a couple of times as she crossed and uncrossed her legs I was sure everyone could see her panties. The raunchy jokes continued and references to big cocks, big tits, and smelly pussies abounded.

I kept trying to hint that we should leave, but Stacy would have none of it. We stayed until really late, by which time everyone was very drunk. We all staggered out, Stacy getting very touchy-feely with Bruce and another guy, Steve. As we got to the car, I opened the door for Stacy. She turned to Bruce and said goodbye.

"Merry Christmas," Bruce said loudly and then he took the opportunity to kiss her passionately and run his hand across her chest. Stacy didn't protest, and in fact I thought I saw her tongue shoot into his mouth.

"Hey!" I protested.

"Oh relax. Just saying bye," Bruce said smilingly as he passed Stacy to Steve who also jammed his tongue down her throat.

Finally, Stacy slid into the front seat. I was fuming, and expecting an apology, but when I looked at Stacy I noticed that she too was seething. I figured I must have misunderstood what had happened and that she was as upset at Bruce and Steve.

"Hey honey, sorry about what happened. Bruce and Steve sure are assholes," I offered amiably.

"Fuck you, Mark," she responded with a sneer, "you're the asshole."

"What?" I asked incredulously.

"You're the asshole. A jealous, puny dicked, asshole!"

"What did I do?" I asked defensively.

"You know what you did! Standing over me like my fucking mother, a shitty, little, jealous sneer on your face. You never let me have any fun." Just then we arrived at the house and Stacy stormed out of the car, slammed the car door, ran into the house and up the stairs.

I just sat in the car in shock. I finally went inside, only to find my pajamas on the living room floor and the door to the bedroom firmly locked. I tried to call to Stacy, but she only told me to "fuck off."

I went downstairs and watched TV and thought about the evening. Stacy's violent reaction had me baffled, but as I thought of the evening I gradually convinced myself that I was in the wrong, and that I ought to be less jealous. I finally fell asleep having come around fully to Stacy's view.

The next day Stacy was still mad at me. I desperately tried to win her over. I bought her flowers and took her out to dinner sitting quietly as she brazenly flirted with the waiter. Finally I found myself eating her pussy for over an hour bringing her to orgasm three times, only to have her turn over and fall asleep leaving me with a nasty case of blue balls.

When we woke up the next morning, things seems to be fine again between us. Stacy chatted amiably about her office party that night. I had a strange twinge of foreboding, but I quickly suppressed my instincts as mere groundless jealousy. I left for work before she did, planning to meet her at five at her office.

Work was a real bitch. We had several big projects, and Bruce pissed me off with his leering comments about Stacy. I wasn't able to leave before six. I realized I was upset, and so I vowed to take extra efforts to control my jealousy.

I got to Stacy's office a little after six, and the party was already rip-roaring. People were already soused, and the booze was flowing freely. I spotted Stacy from across the room. She was wearing a black, leather mini-skirt, fishnet stockings, and a sheer white blouse. If possible, she looked even more provocative than at my office party.

She was giggling and laughing loudly, obviously she'd already had a lot to drink. Several of her co-workers were clustered around her, and as might be expected, they were all male. I got a drink and then joined them.

I was shocked, it was like a repeat of two nights earlier. The conversation was all about sex and peppered with double entendres aimed at my wife. The jokes were raunchy and vile, but Stacy seemed to love it.

I was determined to let Stacy have fun, so I laughed at the jokes, ignored it when Wally nonchalantly rested his hand on my spouse's thigh, pretended not to mind when Rob suggested and Stacy accepted the challenge to demonstrate her oral technique on a long- neck beer bottle, and chuckled easily when Dan asked me if Stacy's areolae were large or small and whether her nipples were sensitive.

The conversation turned to past sexual experiences, and I stayed as Stacy described in detail her first fuck and first blowjob. I listened as she described her fabulous ex-boyfriend, Rich, who had an eleven inch cock, and stood around when by implication she said that my dick was much smaller than most she'd had. When she launched into a discussion of how many of my friends she'd fucked before we were married, I decided I'd had enough. However, I still wanted to give her her fun, so I excused myself to get a drink and then instead of coming back, I walked around mingling with the other employees.

I never introduced myself, letting everyone think I was some random spouse. I heard an earful about Stacy. Most of the women thought she was bitch, and most of the men thought she was little cock-tease. Half the people seemed to pity "her husband," the others held him in contempt.

I was at the bar getting another beer, when I noticed Stacy joined by Dan, Rob, Wally, and Mike staggering toward the door. I rushed across the room, grabbed my coat, and caught up with them in the outer lobby.

Stacy was composed as I approached them. "Oh, honey there you are, we were looking for you," she said.

I didn't know whether they had or not, so I took her word for it. "Are we going home?" I asked.

She sneered, "Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud. We were going to Clancy's."

"Oh, okay," I said meekly, thinking of Clancy's, a rowdy college bar several miles away. I tagged along submissively.

We got into the parking lot. "Well, we need to take two cars. I'll go in Dan's car, Mark you'll drive whoever doesn't fit in," Stacy announced assertively.

I didn't protest, and as Stacy, Rob, and Wally packed into Dan's car, I got behind the wheel to drive Mike to the bar. Mike was drunk and talking a mile a minute. He prattled on crudely about Stacy, relating those of her stories that I had missed. I took refuge if observing Dan's car closely as I followed it down the road.

Stacy had climbed into the back seat with Rob, and on occasion when illuminated by oncoming traffic I could see their outlines. They were sitting awfully close, and I could swear I saw Stacy lean over and kiss him, but it was dark and tough to see so I could not be sure.

For a while, Stacy and Rob were obviously talking intently. And then the oddest thing happened. A headlight swept the back seat and Stacy wasn't there. A moment later the car passed an overhead light and again I couldn't see Stacy. I could see in several more times, each time Stacy was out of sight, and Rob's head was leaning back. At one point he took a furtive glance backward.

For a moment I was baffled, but then a searing vision entered my mind. Thinking back to Rob's request that Stacy demonstrate her cock-sucking technique on a bottle, I was now convinced that she was demonstrating on his cock. I could almost see her going down on him, taking him rod deep into her mouth. I imagined him thrusting his hips gently as he pressed her head down pumping his dick past her full, red lips. Even Mike must have noticed something because he became deathly quiet as he stared at Dan's car only interrupted by occasional glances at me.

My imagination was getting the better of me. I almost drove the car off road at one point. But finally, as we approached Clancy's, Stacy reappeared as suddenly as she had disappeared. I tried to see some evidence of my suspicions, but obviously I could see nothing. Was I really as foolishly jealous as Stacy said? Doubt crept into my mind, and I decided to say nothing even though the image in my mind was crystal clear.

We pulled into the parking lot and clambered out of our cars. We all staggered into the bar, Stacy arm in arm with Dan and Wally. She turned around and looked at me and shot me a dazzling smile. Rob also glanced a me, a bemused look on his face, and eyes which seemed to say, "You poor dumb bastard."

The bar was dimly lit, and the band was blaring some scratchy music so loud that it was virtually impossible to hear one another. I followed the group as we squeezed into a booth near the stage. There wasn't enough room for all of us, so I pulled up a seat and sat in the aisle getting bumped over and over again by our waitress as she brought us beers.

Stacy had scooted in first, and now she sat between Dan and Wally. The music was really loud, giving them a perfect opportunity to lean close and speak in Stacy's ear. I, of course, could hear nothing. It was like watching a silent movie. Dan would lean over and talk into Stacy's ear, she'd laugh at some unknown joke. Wally would lean over, resting his hand around her should as he spoke to her. I could not see through the table, but I was sure that if I could I would see Wally and Dan handling Stacy's thighs or worse.

Suddenly the din died down. The band had ended its set, and for a while the stage was still. Then a few minutes later a greasy fellow in a bad suit and open shirt climbed on stage. He grabbed an open mike and started speaking as a spotlight centered on him.

"Alright, let's have a big hand for The Slams." A desultory response. "And now, the highpoint of the evening, our annual wet t-shirt contest." Big cheers. "Will all the contestants please come back stage?"

I turned around at the sound of renewed conversation.

"Come on, Stacy, why don't you enter?" Wally enquired.

"Oh, I'd don't know," she responded coyly.

"Yeah, Stacy, enter. I'm sure you'd win," Dan broke in.

"Come on, Stacy," Rob and Mike added insistently.

"Well, maybe," she finally answered.

I looked at Stacy and was about to protest, but the look in her eyes was pure venom. I backed down sheepishly, and Stacy seemed to gain more confidence.

"Alright," she exclaimed excitedly, "I'll do it, but first a couple of shooters."

Dan quickly ordered the drinks, and the second they arrived, Stacy and the other quickly down two shots each. Now well lubricated Stacy got up and went backstage accompanied by loud cheers from our table.

The guys muttered excitedly as we waited for the contest to start. I did not know what to do. I was tempted to leave, but somehow I could not bring myself to do that. Instead I merely sat quietly, hoping the evening would end soon.

The stage lit up, and an emcee stepped forward. He gave a brief introduction and then the girls came out. They were a diverse group, a tall amazon in leather boots, a chunky babe with grotesquely big boobs, a couple of frizzed blonds, a few random college girls out there on a dare, and finally Stacy. Stacy was obviously in a class by herself. She was wearing thong panties and a thin white t-shirt with the bar's logo on the back.

The bar's owner climbed on stage and armed with a big bucket of water began wetting the girls down. They shivered as the cold water made the shirts transparent as well as hardening their nipples. When he was done, he turned the stage over to the girls, and each one was given a couple of minutes to strut her stuff.

The first girl merely walked back and forth on the stage, but each one after that tried to outdo the ones who'd gone before. By the time it was Stacy's turn, the girls before her had been pretty raunchy.

Stacy started out slowly. Standing at the front of the stage, she slowly massaged her breasts and pinched her nipples through the shirt. She wheeled around and shook her hard ass at the audience. Then she started striding back and forth shaking her shoulders as she walked. Suddenly she stopped and turned to the audience. She dropped down on her knees. With one hand she rubbed her breasts, and at the same time she pushed her index finger into her mouth, licking and suckling it.

Her time was mercifully up, and the emcee walked back on stage, but before Stacy returned to the back of the stage she stood up and very quickly lifted up her t-shirt giving everyone a nice look at her beautiful breasts.

The audience voted on the winner by cheering, and right away it was no contest. Stacy was the runaway winner. She collected her $100 prize, and before disappearing backstage she flashed us all her tits one more time. The guys at the table were pretty agitated.

"Man, I'd like to fuck her," Wally exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Yeah, she is one hot piece of ass," Rob piped in.

The banter continued for a little, although I noticed Mike was oddly quiet. Finally, Dan realized I was also at the table and he added lamely, "We don't really mean all that shit we're saying. Just talking trash, you know." He then ordered me another beer as if that were an adequate recompense.

I sat stewing in my own juices. I was so distraught that I barely noticed Mike getting up to go to the bathroom. I was totally tuning out my surroundings, so much so that I did not notice that Mike had been away for a while and that Stacy had not returned. Finally, I came partially out of my stupor and decided to wash up.

I went to the men's room. I tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. However, when I released the door, it swung inward slightly and I realized the lock wasn't working. I opened the door cautiously, after all I did not want to walk in on some guy taking a dump. I opened the door a crack and peered in.

I wasn't shocked by what I saw. I have to admit in the back of my mind I must have expected it. Stacy was sitting on the sink. Her legs were spread wide, and her blouse was off and hung down, tucked into her skirt which was bunched up at the waist. Her bra hung from the light fixture in the corner, and her full breasts and erect nipples gleamed with sweat. Mike was standing between her legs, his pants and boxers down around his ankles, and his big cock plunging deep into Stacy's cunt.

Mike was fucking her hard, and judging by the sweat on his brow, he'd been at it for a while. He'd pull out almost all the way, pause, and then viciously hammer back into her. Stacy let out a loud gasp with each stroke.

"Oh baby, you love being fucked, don't you?" Mike taunted.

"Mmm, yes," Stacy moaned.

"Tell me you love it. Tell me you love my big cock," Mike demanded as he paused.

"Yes, I love it," Stacy mewled as she tried to pull him back into her.

He stayed put, his cock just barely inside her pussy, "Tell me you love my big cock."

"I love your big cock," Stacy echoed.

Finally, Mike relented and gave her what she wanted, another hard stroke. He now picked up speed. Faster and faster he fucked her, and her squeals were now coming fast and furious. He grabbed her tits, and pinched her nipples, and in a final flurry of activity he grabbed her shoulders, bent his knees, and gave her one last savage thrust. I thought he'd tear her in half, but the look on Stacy's face convinced me that the rough treatment was just what she wanted. He stayed deep inside her, his body twitching as gob and gob of hot come shot into her.