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You Can Have My Wife But Not My Scotch       Heading into my late twenties, my wife of some four years was only twenty-two and with still the body, aura and in many ways naivety, of a young girl. We had one daughter who at the time was almost four. She has no part in this recollection, I hasten to add The previous year, Abby had miscarried late and had taken it badly. Blaming as some girls do, especially in the absence of any other cause - herself, the marriage had since been negotiating some rocky highways and byways. We loved the place and holed up there mid-winter with snow outside, a roaring fire in the grate and a glass or three of whatever champagne was on special that week. We were doing alright, well up until the miscarriage anyway. I was working as a teacher in the city then and with the slow-haul two hour train-trip home a couple of nights a week I wasn't back until near-midnight having to pull down a late shift Tuesdays and Thursdays. The previous few years we had changed houses a couple of times and were on a first name basis with every Real Estate agent in the upper mountains. A couple of them we used to see on a regular social basis, including Larry who had actually sold us the cliff-top edifice. Larry didn't especially appeal to me - all glitz with little depth but hey, his wife Beth more than made up for it. Unfortunately, she wasn't to be part of this little tale either. The previous couple of weeks Larry had been particularly morose and short on humor. Whenever I would try to negotiate some emotional inroads, asking if she would like to talk about things, all she would say is "You know what the problem is honey, just have to let me handle it." Then she would give me a quick kiss and smile that pretty smile she had totally perfected. It was all I could do to go to work some mornings! The day in question, I had decided to drive to the city being my late-shift and consequently faced a two-way journey free of peak-hour traffic. The afternoon offered-up nothing remarkable and with a slower than average evening, I figured I would close-up the training room (I worked for a major city newspaper, teaching cadet journalists) and head off to my mountain retreat. Back almost an hour and a half early, not only was I surprised to see Larry's new Landcruiser out the front of our place, I could have sworn that was his business- partner Rory's Beamer parked right behind him. "Hmmm, the plot thickens?" I was deliberating, as I approached the front door. "Surely she's not planning on us selling the house?" I began to wonder abstractedly. On opening it, I was further astounded to find no-one in either the lounge or dining room. The least incisive of minds could filter out the only remaining possibility - I think I already knew subconsciously, the instant I had seen Larry's car. An unlikely calm descended upon me and I was in no rush even to make evident the shameful betrayal - perhaps some part of me "understood?" As it was, I quietly opened my daughter's bedroom door - the master bedroom was closed I noted and sounds from within were now audible. Female ecstasy is hard to suppress!. Little Sheryl was sleeping like an angel, I kissed her and stayed for a few moments looking down at the bed. The vulnerability of children, little girls especially, is sometimes quite overwhelming. Leaving her sound asleep, I walked up the hall to our room. "Funny" I was thinking, in all the years we had been together I couldn't recall ever closing our bedroom door. Not figuring to make this easy on anyone, I simply opened it and walked in. Hard to remain calm and objective when one is confronted by what amounts to the supranormal. Every person there was affected differently. I think I was by far the calmest - being in shock. Larry, frozen in time-mid thrust, simply paled into a sickly grey, his eyes instinctively dropping to my hands, expecting one supposes to see there - some sort of automatic weapon. Rory, performing an exemplary job of holding Abby's right leg so far clear of the bed she looked like Nadia Comaneci in training, just stared blankly. His left hand I could see was still atop my young wife's pussy, just centimetres from Larry's penetrative drill-bit. Stationary now, I assume he had been fingering her in whatever ingress was available, given the indignities being perpetrated upon her. A third man, whose first name I recalled was Owen - another wannabe real estate magnate, was kneeling with his back to the door, kissing Abby with a decided passion, as he permitted his hands the luxury of traversing her quite small but undeniably sexy breasts. Her nipples I noted were willing participants, to judge by their wholly erect status. Being the last to become aware of my presence inside the doorway, Owen was still fondling her breasts with breathless enthusiasm, even as the remainder of the tableau ground to a sudden halt. And then there was Abby herself. To say she blushed would be to critically understate the situation. Withdrawing her right hand instantly from what I can now only suppose was Owen's underpants, she just covered her face with her hands - no one spoke! "I can explain...." Larry began. I cut him off. "No Larry, you can't 'explain,' I said, "There's no words to adequately cover this situation. Tell me, "I added, staring at him, "How would you feel if you got home and found Beth being fucked senseless by the fridge mechanic?" He didn't answer, choosing instead to stare at the carpet.. What now in hindsight is almost laughable, he hadn't even withdrawn from the depths of Abby's pussy. Whatever went out the window that night in terms of marital trust, I have to freely admit to you all, that seeing Abby naked with those three men on our bed and in so submissive a position, was arousing me to the point of total forgiveness. I turned to leave the room. "Where are you going?" Rory muttered nervously, suspecting perhaps that I kept a loaded rifle in the broom cupboard. "I'm going to pour myself a drink actually," I told him, "Can I get you guys anything?" Rory and Owen looked at each other like I was just this side of committable. They made like they were about to withdraw from the action. "Hey guys," I said, "No point you stopping now - may as well keep going - I'm sure Abby can hold up her end? What about you Owen? Have you fucked her yet?" " Perhaps in partial shock - but he shook his head. "Well there you go," I replied, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. After Larry finishes there," I inclined my head towards her still gaping legs, " Take up some of the slack Larry and plough a few wild oats why don't you?' Abby then began sobbing. "It wasn't their fault," she whimpered, "They didn't force me into it - I said they could come over." "Well hey, that's great Abby," I answered, "We're all friends here, no harm done. Tell you what... let me fuck you now and then we can just see what the rest of the night brings by way of excitement." This at least had the effect of causing Larry to withdraw his semi- deflated prick which even in that condition was, I could see, a tool to be reckoned with. I couldn't tell you why but right then, the thought of fucking my wife senseless - basically humiliating her in front of that gathered assembly was the turn-on of all turn-ons. At that moment, she leaned across to pick up her bra and panties that someone had thoughtfully left at the side of the bed. "No... leave them off Abby," I said. Something in my tone made her look up at me. "I'm serious sweetheart," I continued, "I'm going to fuck you right here, right now - so you may as well lay back and enjoy it." Giving her no time to ponder this, I walked directly to the foot of the bed, lifted her legs and spread her fully indecently right there at the edge of the quilt.. Somehow that sexy little slit had never looked more appealing. Perhaps it was just the vulnerable situation of my young wife naked and spreadeagled before three other men? Perhaps I was just so fully unhinged at that point, my gyroscope was off-center and I had a subconscious need to assert my manhood before my peers. The fact she was crying both with embarrassment and I suppose shame at her discovered betrayal, was just icing on the cake. I couldn't spread her enough now and given the disproportionately engorged state of my erection, I needed every degree available. Penetrating her, as one might a slut on heat, I was but barely cognizant of any marital bond. I simply had to punish Abby for her transgressions and forcing myself ever deeper, I noticed with almost dispassionate acceptance...the other men's cum leaking now from her denigrated pussy as little white strings trickled down the inside of her thighs. In my highly aroused state I motioned to Larry and Owen to hold her legs for me. It was not what you might adjudge the average consummated act. I was raping her as surely as I breathe - and I wasn't handling that aspect all that well right then either. For her part - perhaps out of guilt, maybe in a state of uncontrolled lust - I neither knew or cared which, Abby's tear-stained face began to respond to my wicked incursions. Her hips too, free of any emotional reticence, began to buck with pleasure, thrusting her pussy up to meet the penetrative invader. "I'm sorry Ricky," Larry muttered, caressing Abby along the length of her pussy even as I was fucking her, "But this is so damned hot - I just don't know what to say. Your wife is just so sexy.' "Ain't that the truth?" I was thinking as the light turned green and I expelled at Mach 4 at least, every last chromosome I had on board. Abby simply lay there gasping as I emptied the store-room. Her lovely breasts I noted were jiggling as I continued pumping her, Rory's eyes I could see peering lustfully at that very area of her chest. "It's OK Rory," I grinned "Do what you like with her tits, it's on the house!" Abby looked across pleadingly at me as I returned her glance with what probably appeared to be total disdain. Whatever she had been about to say - she withheld, and offered no resistance to Rory's hands as they began fondling her breasts and tugging on her nipples lewdly. If anything I detected some pleasured wriggling at the indecent contact. "You're up Owen," I said, turning to my left, indicating he should replace me on the Bridge. "Y-You mean I can er, actually do it... with her?" he muttered. "Yeah," I replied simply. "Fuck her as hard and as long as you want." He didn't need any further prompting and extricating what was understandably a healthy boner, he had her moaning in ecstasy in seconds. I gotta say - making eye contact with Abby as this guy's cock rammed its socially forbidden way up her still tight little slit was quite some emotional wrench - I suspect for both of us. From her viewpoint, shamefully arousing - being taken like a slut in front of her husband while other mens' hands groped her non- stop. From my viewpoint - equally shameful pride at my wife's slim and fully exposed body being treated like a Cro-magnon fuck-fest. Either way, Owen was certainly not pondering the semantics of the situation, nor I think dwelling on his own marital obligations. He was simply porking unromantically but most effectively let it be said, a young girl that I had noticed previously he had eyed- off quite unashamedly, in the realtor office when we had winged in there several months earlier. "Fuck she is so hot," he muttered, approaching the final square. He only needed a six to win. Abby, her eyes closed now, was thrusting her hips up to meet her partner's incoming impregnator and gasping in full sexual arousal. What Rory was doing to her tits is no- one's business, while Larry was continuing to play with her pussy lips and seemingly content to massage leaking cum into her thighs and lower abdomen. "I'm going to fill her cunt," Owen announced to no-one in particular as he proceeded to do just that. Abby I knew, was not used to vulgarisms like this, yet she showed no untoward reaction to his words - if anything I detected the onset of a sexy smile. Personally, hearing reference to my young wife's "cunt" was a massive turn-on, I hoped there might be more. Figuring that this was a good place for a Commercial break, I told them I would be back after checking on my daughter and that they could make up their own rules as they went along so far as Abby was concerned. The look she gave me as I exited the room was priceless. "You heard the man," was the last thing I heard as I closed the door behind me. Little Sheryl had barely moved, still lying on her side, no doubt dreaming of that which little girls do and blissfully unaware of her mom's (for the most part - willing) sexual degradation just two doors down the hallway. I intended it should stay that way! Pulling the door to, I decided now was as good a time as any to pour myself that double shot of Black Label. The others could wait till they get home I rationalised. Letting them suck and fuck my twenty-two year old wife was right neighborly enough surely? No need to go overboard and bequeath them my best Scotch too! On my return they were neither sucking or fucking her however! Either of her own volition or at someone's kinky behest, Abby had pulled her skimpy black lace panties back on and was rather indelicately draped across Larry's knee right there on the edge of the bed. - Her legs kicking like an embarrassed schoolgirl and with Rory and Owen enjoying a handful of jiggling breast each, Abby's shapely bottom was receiving some seriously hard spanking. "That hurts," she whimpered as Larry's hand set her right hand ass-cheek quivering beneath the almost see-thru material. Visually, I have to say I could have gotten to like watching this on a regular basis. To be honest, I had never spanked her - even playfully. That she deserved such treatment was beyond question though - I just hoped the sound of male hand descending on sexy female backside, did not awaken my daughter. That might have been hard to explain. "Mommy's just playing sweetheart!" As I entered, Larry looked up. "Don't mind us doing this to your wife do you Ricky?" Right then I was actually visualising Beth in her own tight little panties, across my knee - and how sexy her rear-end would look, as I so indecently heated it up. I wondered what Larry might think of that little scenario. A loud cry from Abby as one of Larry's spanks connected with her upper thigh brought me back to Earth. "Hey guys," I said, "Tone it down a bit would you? Don't want our small daughter waking up and asking questions thanks." "Let me have a turn," Owen chipped in, stepping up to the podium as it were. Larry stayed his hand and proffering Abby's far-from sated little rear, looked on as Owen delivered the first of several quite hard spanks across both ass-cheeks. If I didn't know better, I would swear she was arching her back with pleasure whilst at the same time pressing down with her pussy on the side of his knee. Either way, there could be no doubting the arousal- value of her sexy little breasts, as they jiggled there in full view of an entranced audience, in response to each contacted spank. Larry and Rory in fact were availing themselves of her bra-less state, groping and fondling her nipples with reckless abandon. It wasn't a scene her father could ever have envisaged let's say, not to mention the Catholic Priest who married us. One could only make the comment that the evening degenerated into even grayer areas after that. Once you have defined the sexual playing-field, established the willingness and almost limitless complicity of the sole female team-member (especially at just twenty-two) the rules of the game are no longer governed by the Marquess of Queensbury. After the spanking session ran its course and predictably Rory insisted on delivering his six on her bare bottom, the other two delighting in the opportunity to pull her panties down once more, as her token resistance ran its course... we tied her up and acted rather badly. All four of us raped her - there being no other way to describe what we perpetrated upon that helpless and restrained set of curves. Abby is only a small girl - not even five-three in bare feet and weighing-in at no more than 120 pounds, hardly in a position to repel the sexual advances of four adult males. Passing out with sensory overload more than once, we had her conventionally on her back, standing - while held up by two men in rotation, face-down on the quilt and of course, on all fours - that delightfully rosy little backside almost detracting from the inner dripping cavern it so zealously guarded. My own participation of course, I viewed as just punishment. I wanted her humiliated, used and abused - 'till death do us part' pretty much. I think she sensed this - even as Owen fucked her mercilessly in the position favored by any self-respecting Husky, Abby just looked across at me with an expression clearly implying, "Is this degrading enough for you?" When finally the three of them left - unable to walk except in extreme discomfort one imagines, I just looked down at her cum-splattered body - red-raw sore, bruised and hand-marked as it was...and you know, inside I just felt... nothing. Crawling beneath the covers, I was asleep long before she returned from the shower.

Fucking Machines	Gangbang Stories	Hog Tied	Taboo Stories	Porn Stories
Ultimate Surrender	Bondage Stories	Sex and Submission	Wired Pussy	Allme.com