My Nasty Wife

Several years ago, before I had my drinking “problem,” I had the perfect life. I was educated, employed, financially secure – and best of all – married to a wonderful woman. We had a pretty little house in the suburbs, and we both taught at a very prestigious private school. Amanda taught elementary school Reading, and I taught Math in the junior high grades. Amanda and I met in college and married soon after we graduated and we were both virgins on our wedding night. She was smart and pretty and demurely affectionate. If there was anything less than perfect about her, it was the fact that she kept a very tight rein on her emotions. Serious, insecure, and uptight, Amanda even dressed very conservatively, and it was only for those too-brief moments when her hair was out of the bun and she was naked, that I could appreciate the true beauty that she was. Her insecurities even affected her professional life because other teachers were promoted around her as she remained docile and submissive to the administration. One weekend, I found out that Amanda’s bottled-up emotions took a toll on her, and when the dam finally broke, it had shocking results. Teaching junior high, I was familiar with teens going through their rebellious stage. It was a fact of life for me, and I did everything I could to make the teenager’s angst as painless as possible, while still teaching my subject. Also, teaching at a good, and very expensive, private school, meant cooperating with the parents as much as possible. One troubled teen was a beautiful girl named Elizabeth. Elizabeth was 15 and in the midst of a powerful revolt against her very wealthy parents. Big contributors to the school, her parents asked for and received cooperation from everyone on the staff. Looking back on that Spring, I realized that I made a mistake by getting too involved with Elizabeth and her family. Part of the phase Elizabeth was going through was in selecting “wild” boyfriends. Her latest was a biker, years older than her, and someone we all assumed (correctly) was heavily into drugs and a lot of other unsavory things. Just before final exams in the Spring, Elizabeth ran away from home. For whatever reason, she showed up at our door several days later, hungry and broke, and spent several nights with Amanda and me. We helped her get through exams and finally talked her into returning home. About a week after Elizabeth left, I got a call from her boyfriend. He made it clear that if he ever heard of me touching her again that he would kill me. He further threatened to get even somehow for what I had done with his “old lady.” In a near panic, I tried to assure him that nothing had happened between Elizabeth and me and that my wife had been with us the entire time. I don’t think he listened to me at all. Several weeks passed. School let out for the Summer and Amanda and I prepared for our vacation. We planned a long weekend away over the Fourth of July and couldn’t wait to leave as soon as Amanda’s summer school class dismissed at noon on Friday. I had the car packed and ready to go when she pulled into the driveway. We had a light lunch and piled into the car to hit the road. I had driven perhaps a mile when I suddenly felt the cold steel of a gun barrel being pressed against my neck. A guy who looked very much like a large, nasty biker was in the back seat of the car and was very serious about what he would do to us if I didn’t do exactly as he ordered. He told me to drive and, following his instructions, we drove for almost an hour, far out into the country. We turned off the road and into a rutted trail and our kidnapper told us to stop next to a van parked there and to get out. Another, even larger biker climbed out of the van, pointing a sawed-off shotgun at us. The first guy put our hands behind our backs and handcuffed us. Then he put silver duct tape on our mouths and blindfolded our eyes with black cloth. They pushed us into the van and tied our feet to the sides and then drove, for what seemed like hours, before stopping the car and pulling us out. When they removed the blindfolds, all I could tell was that we were in a huge garage of some kind. It was obviously used to repair automobiles and motorcycles, as there were several of each sitting around in the process of being worked on. The first biker shoved us down on an old schoolbus bench in the corner, leaving us handcuffed. He further secured us by running a long chain through our arms and padlocking it to the heavy workbench behind the bus seat. Amanda and I were both terrified, neither of us knowing exactly what to expect. I assumed that the bikers were friends of Elizabeth’s boyfriend and I was very sorry I didn’t call the police after his threatening phonecall. For all I knew, the idiot would kill us both. When the two bikers returned, they were accompanied by what appeared to be the members of some kind of motorcycle gang. There were about a dozen people. All dressed in typical biker gear, the men’s ages ran from the mid-20’s, up into the late 40’s or even 50’s. Two of the girls looked very young, maybe 15 to 17, and the other two were into their 40’s. The first biker walked over to us and introduced himself as “Bronk.” My worst fear came true as he told us he was, indeed, Elizabeth’s “old man.” He was quite proud of his kidnapping and explained to the others that he was going to make me wish I had never fucked his “Lizzie.” “What’s the slut’s name?” Bronk asked another biker, rifling Amanda’s purse. “Her name is Amanda.” It was Elizabeth – Lizzie. She was walking into the garage, dressed like the rest of the group in dirty jeans and a denim sleeveless jacket. Bronk put his arm around Lizzie’s waist and glared down at me, “Hell man, I told you you would be hearing from me. I wasn’t about to forget that you fucked my old lady.” (He ignored me as I was frantically shaking my head!)

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My nipples were stiff and tingling, and my huge, 39DD jugs were bouncing and jiggling sensuously under my thin, see-thru top as I walked into the door of the exclusive “Tit-Fucker’s Club”. The beautiful, big-bosomed woman who greeted me at the door and led me inside said, “You look great, but I have to measure your bust with the tape. No women under a 38DD are admitted. It’s the rule. The men pay a lot of money to join this Tit-Fucking Club, and they expect only the prettiest women with the best breasts. Their desire is for a woman to be able to wrap her tits completely around their cocks. I’m sure you won’t have any difficulty doing that, but I still have to check. You do know that the only sexual act permitted here is tit-fucking, don’t you?” I nodded. The man who’d invited me to this exclusive underground swing club had told me about the rules when he’d picked me up in a crowded bar for a hot fuck two nights earlier. We went to my place, and after he fucked my tits and blasted off between them and all over my nipples, he told me that it was the only safe-sex club in the city, and that the only sex act that was allowed was tit-fucking. It was a true breast-lover’s paradise! He described to me in lewd, lurid, exciting detail the wild and crazy tit-sex that went on there, too! Well, I am a sucker for a man who loves to fuck my tits. I simply adore having my breasts fucked, and although I hadn’t gone with him to the club that night, I’d spent the next 48 hours since wondering what I’d missed. Now I was here, and very anxious to see what a real, live sex club was really like, particularly one that catered exclusively to breast-loving men who loved to tit-fuck their women! My panties were a lready soaking wet in anticipation of getting my boobs and my nipples royally screwed all night! I was more than ready to have my tits covered in cum! “Strip,” the woman said. I did, my hands already shaking from excitement. Because I was already excited, my honeydew-melon boobs were swollen painfully. My three-inch wide aureolas had crinkled all up with lust, and my high-riding, perky pink nipples were sticking way out. The woman caressed my nipples accidentally-on-purpose as she adjusted the tape measure around my naked boobs. Of course, I passed. With my 39DD’s, I had more that enough breast flesh to engulf a man’s hot, throbbing boner! After all, I’d smothered every man’s boner with my boobs since my first fuck, when my then boyfriend showed me how to use my tits on his cock to make him explode.

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Becky and I met and married in college, finishing together to began our careers, she as a school teacher, me as an accountant. Our sex life was normal, normal and dull. It was just straight sex, missionary style. I tried to talk to her about expanding her horizons and tried to get her to do other things, or, maybe even tell me her fantasies, but, she seemed sexless most of the time. Then, after we had been married about three years, we found out I was sterile and that is the reason we could not have a child. Becky was devastated. She so wanted children. I felt horrible because I wanted them, too, but, more than that, because I had let her down. It was about then I started having fantasies of her having sex with another man, a man who would impregnate her, a man to give her what I could not, a child. I never had the courage to share my fantasies with her, although they became stronger and stronger. Every time we would see a couple with a small baby, I would see the pain in her face, see her wanting. Over time, I could see something else. I could see her disgust with me for being sterile, for being unable to give her that. She would fight her feelings. I could see her pendulum swing from being over solicitous with me to revulsion at not being able to give her a child. It was so hard on both of us. One night, after we both had too much to drink, I told her my fantasy. I told her I dreamed of her being impregnated by another man, of bearing a happy healthy child, of me watching them having sex or her telling me all about it. This was so much a part of the fantasy. I must know everything, as if I were impregnating her through him. She slapped me hard, then she slapped me again. “How dare you think me a slut!” she screamed, pounding on my chest with her fists. “I am your wife, you sterile wimp!” She began to cry buckets, collapsing aginst me as she sobbed. Immediately, she begged my forgiveness at calling me a wimp, saying she knew it was not my fault, that wanted a child as much as she did. I threw myself in my work. Our relationship declined even faster, to the point she would lie there limply when we had sex. I got to the point I would rather not bother her. Yet, even though she was listless in our bed, I felt a tension building in her. Then, the firm had a cocktail party for an executive who was being transferred to another office. Three other men had been fired. Those changes opened up some job opportunities which had not yet been filled. Mr. Williams, the top man in the company, was going to be at the party to meet all of us.

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Tammy and I were very happy in the first few months of our marriage. Hers was the love I had always looked for. Tammy was such a sweet young girl, a virgin of 20 when we married. She was flat out gorgeous, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her in the street. She hid her shapely body and legs in loose, long cut dresses, and kept her thick black hair pinned back. She was a lady, a beautiful angel. She was a minister’s daughter, raised in a deeply Christian household, and her strong religious convictions made her very conscious to not dress provocatively. It was just as good. I’d come to know over the few months what a spectacular body she had. I felt privileged to have seen it all, and to have been the first man to feel the inside of her lovely young pussy. In contrast to her, I was much more adventurous sexually. Certainly no virgin, by the time I was her age I had had many women. Sex was the most important thing in my life. You might even consider me a sex addict; I spent many hours in strip clubs and adult bookstores, enjoying pornography and the pleasures of feeling up strippers. In fact, I continued to do this even after we were married, because while Tammy was the love of my life, there were feelings and urges that she didn’t satisfy. There was no way I could tell her about this, she wouldn’t understand, so it remained a secret I kept from her. Marriage so far had been a compromise. I brought her along slowly; She was very resistant to do anything she considered “kinky”, and to her that included blowjobs and any kind of ass play. I was crazy enough about her to hold myself back. It was tough for me.

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What a beautiful summer day! It was early afternoon and I was out in the back yard doing the regular weekly chores on the flower beds and lawn. Jim, our new neighbor was also out doing the same in his yard. I knew his first name when he had introduced himself a few months back as he moved in. We hadn’t really shared much else since except a casual node of recognition when we passed each other in our normal day to day activities. Jim looked to be about 35, physically fit, dark complexion, dark hair, and a relatively good looking guy. The only other thing I knew was that he was single. He seemed to like puttering around his house and enjoyed looking after the yard as well. Not exactly your average single guy! We’d been at it for almost 2 hours. Jim had come out into his yard just after I’d started. I’d had enough for a while so I threw down the rack and called over to Jim. “Heh neighbor! do you feel like taking a break?” Jim turned to me and said” Yea, that would be great.” I told him to come on over and I’d get us something cold to drink. He jumped the fence as easy as if it were just a foot high, came over to the patio and said ” Thanks, I could use something cold. I told him to grab one of the lounge chairs and I’d be right back. I went into kitchen through the patio doors to get the beverages. Beth was at the sink preparing vegies for supper. Beth and I have been married since she was eighteen and I was nineteen. She is 38 now. Both of us were virgins when we met, so we were each others first and only until present day. We both enjoy sex and have explored many fun aspects of sex through the years. Beth is 5′7″ tall. For the most part she has kept her figure over the years. If anything she has filled out in all the right places, making her even more tantalizing. She is blond, blue eyed and has beautiful 38C breasts with very large aureoles and nipples that turn up. Her breasts are very sensitive and she loves having them played with. She keeps her pussy shaved up to the top of her slit and then trims the bush on her mound so that it is no more than a quarter of an inch long. Her pussy lips are very pronounced, sticking out a couple of inches.

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Pete was a gorgeous guy who had his pick of women. I fact, he usually picked more than one of them. This may not seem like a problem to some, but I’m sure his wife wouldn’t have been to happy to find out. as for me, I was more limited in opportunities. But I knew I would never have to worry about ‘picking’ again was I was soon to have my own wife. Her name was Michelle, and with an unlimited pick of women, I would have chose her. She was beautiful, soft, and sexy. I wondered how I had landed a girl whose medium-length blonde hair glowed in the sun, whose face captivated the eyes of every man who beheld it, whose breasts turned heads with their side-to-side bobbing as she walked. She was incredible, and soon to be my wife. Michelle had told me something of Pete, and the only time they had ever met. It was at a party, and Michelle told me she knew the instant she saw him she was going to fuck him. (This was when we first met, before we started dating. I don’t think I could have handled this after I fell in love with her.) “I wasn’t the prettiest girl there.” she had explained to me. “So I knew I would have to be the most aggressive.” I don’t think any man could resist her aggression. Michelle continued. “I went into the bathroom, and was going to tell Carry (her best friend) about him. Her first words were ‘Oh my God! Did you see that babe!’ My answer was ‘Hell Yes! Oh how I want to fuck him!” Carry smiled at me and told me she saw him looking at me, or more specifically, my breasts.” At this point, I too looked at her tits. She caught me. “It’s Ok. I know I have large breasts. Anyway, in the bathroom I undid the top buttons on my blouse, to show off some cleavage. I had to redo the last one because my bra was showing.

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It was a nice warm day in San Antonio when you two arrived and called to let me know that the two of you were in town. Ann answered the phone and said she would deliver the message when I got home. She further told you how much I had been looking forward to your arrival and told you to have a good time. An hour and a half later I was on my way to your motel and what I hoped was going to be a very exciting time. My cock had been alternating with varying degrees of hardness ever since the phone call of a few nights earlier in which you asked if I would be free on Thursday night. “Would you like to meet us for some fun? Julie is ready to try both of us.” Was I ready? I couldn’t have been readier or more excited. Ever since we had met you and Julie a month earlier, I had thought about kissing her, playing with her beautiful breasts until our bodies were entwined in the ultimate passion. The door opened on the first knock and upon stepping into the room, the first thing that catches my eye is Julie standing in front of the mirror applying the last of her make-up. Absolutely gorgeous! All she is wearing is a dark, low cut, lacy bra with matching panties. Her reflection reveals the swells of her tits and as I watch their gentle rise and fall with each breath, I want to move behind her and cup them in my hands. But that would have to wait for we have plans to go out to eat. The three of us talk about a variety of topics as Julie finished dressing. You could feel some tension/excitement in the air as none of us really didn’t know exactly what to say except no one wanted to say anything about the real reason we were meeting.

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