J Watson - The unfaithful wife

"My God," Elaine said, as she turned around to watch what was happening. "I can't believe it."

"I can't either," he said.

The boys started to groan and one of them came with a spurt of milky white cum that covered Stella's big tits. Stella's mouth dropped open as two of the other boys started to come. Milky white splashes of cum covered Stella's body. Everywhere. Even the bottom parts of her legs got some of the creamy jism. Then the rest of the boys began to come.

There was no place Stella could go and she had to take their wet sticky offering.

It seemed to last forever. Finally the boys were done and they dressed and went off laughing into the woods. Stella stayed there a long while before she had the strength to stand up.

"I know one thing," Alan said. "It's going to be a hell of a long time before I forget what happened to me this week-end."

Cynthia and Alan were having supper. It was supposed to be a romantic supper, but Alan had been in a foul mood all evening long. Cynthia had never seen him this way, before. She'd always prepared for his return in the same way. She washed and pampered herself and put on her sexiest nightgown. Tonight she had on a filmy blue thing that barely concealed her creamy breasts and made it obvious that he was wearing no panties.

Usually Alan was in a horny mood when he came home. But today there was an uncomfortable tension in the air.

"I guess I'm not hungry," he said, picking at his food. "Maybe I'm coming down with something."

Cynthia knew it wasn't the flu that was making him act the way he was, but she couldn't understand what. There was something odd about him. Some look she had never seen in his face before. It made her nervous. She thought she knew her husband very well. She usually understood any changes in his actions. But she didn't understand this.

"I'll have another drink, though," Alan said, and she watched her moody husband pour his fifth glass of wine since he'd sat down at the table. She'd never seen him drink so much. Alan just wasn't a drinker. She realized that the thing that was troubling him must be really serious. There could be one thing that was that serious. Somehow he knew. She didn't know how – but he knew.

"I think you've had enough of that," Cynthia said.

"I'm just fine," Alan said.

"But you never drink this much," she protested. "Goddamn it," he said, standing up. His face was angry and he suddenly swept the food and wine off the table and into a mess on the floor. She hadn't been prepared for this sudden burst of temper. For a moment she thought that he was going to swing at her.

"Alan," she said in a shocked voice.

"Don't go telling me how much to drink," he said. "You're my wife. Not my Goddamn mother!"

He strode angrily away from the table. He went into the living room and she had the feeling that he would be making himself another drink. Except this time it would be the hard stuff. He knew. He wouldn't be acting this way unless he knew. She started searching her mind for some way out, some excuse she could make to him. But there was no excuse a wife could make to her husband after two days fucking.

And sucking, she thought, and other things that she had never done for her husband. But damn it, she would have done those things if he had ever acted like Greg. If instead of asking her, he had just taken what he wanted. Greg had made her feel like a wild woman – which was something Greg had never done.

His lovemaking was nice. He had a nice big cock and he used it well, but there was never any of the savage feeling she'd had with Greg.

Alan was drinking something else when his wife walked into the living room after him. He knew she was deeply troubled by his actions, but he didn't know how to explain it to her. What had happened to him had made his feelings change toward her. He knew he couldn't ever be happy with a woman like Cynthia after Elaine and her daughter. It wasn't that Cynthia wasn't pretty or sexy. It was just that Cynthia had never abandoned herself to depravity the way Elaine and Stella had. Alan had found out what fucking was all about and he didn't know how to tell his wife.

"Alan," Cynthia said softly. "Don't you think we'd better talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about," he answered.

"Yes there is," she said. "Something's bothering you. I think I know what it is."

"You do?" he asked.

"Yes," Cynthia said. "Somehow you found out what happened while you were gone."

"What happened while I was gone?" he asked, confusion clouding his thoughts. He wondered what his wife was talking about and then he saw that strange expression on his wife's face. She was afraid of something. Of him? Why should his beautiful wife be afraid of him? He'd never done anything to harm her.

"You know, don't you?" Cynthia questioned him. "You know about Greg."

And then he understood. He never thought that he could feel so angry. It no longer mattered that he had spent the week-end fucking other women. He was a man. It wasn't right that his wife should screw around behind his back.

"What about you and the guy next door?" Alan asked.

"You already know," Cynthia answered him. "Please don't put me through this."

"No," he said. "I want to know everything. I want to know every Goddamn detail."

"Please don't make me," Cynthia said.

Cynthia started backing away. She was suddenly afraid of the look in her husband's eyes. She had never seen him angry before. Not really angry. Not like he was now. She really started to feel afraid that he would hurt her.

"I want to know everything," he said.

"I can't talk about it," Cynthia said.

"You will," he said. "You will talk. Or I'll break your fucking neck."

She tried to run but he caught her in two steps. He grabbed her by her arm and twisted it behind her back. She was frightened or she would never have tried to claw his face. She got her fingernails into his skin and drew blood. He gave a cry of pain and released her. She never saw his fist but she felt it in the pit of her stomach. He knocked the breath out of her. She bent double in pain and he pushed her back onto the living room couch.

"You little bitch," he said. "You're going to tell me everything. Every damn detail."

"Please don't act like this," Cynthia begged him.

Alan was feeling drunk on he wouldn't have acted the way he was. He wouldn't ever have put his hand on his wife even if she had been unfaithful. But he was feeling the effects of his drinking and he was aroused in a strange way. He wanted to hurt her, abuse her and to make her feel something she'd never felt from him before. He grabbed her by a thick handful of her blonde hair and began slapping her face.

"Oh stop it," she pleaded. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

He stopped hitting her. Cynthia leaned back on the couch and felt dry sobs shake her body. She'd never been so afraid of her husband. But then she had never expected such anger from him. This wasn't like him at all. He was, a nice, easy going man. She didn't believe that just her being unfaithful would make him behave this way.

He made himself another drink and he walked back to the chair in front of the couch. He sat down looking at her. He liked what he saw. Damn, she was a cool looking woman even if he couldn't get her to feel much. He wondered how Greg had ever gotten into her panties? Cynthia had just never been the kind of girl who fell over men.

"Tell me what happened," he commanded.

"I just had another man, that's all," Cynthia said. She knew better than to tell about Mary.

"You mean you fucked another man?" Alan asked.

"Yes," admitted Cynthia.

"Was he good?" Alan asked. "Did he give you a good fucking?"

"Yes," Cynthia answered honestly. "Yes, damn it. He gave me a good fucking."