The Fourth Ring

                                   Chapter 1


      A typical Friday.  Too many deadlines, too many phone calls, too many
emergencies.  Although a few of these deadlines and emergencies were the result
of my representation of Contrax Industries, I was still looking forward to
lunch with Contrax's president, Rick Robertson.  While Rick always attended to
business, he was also a bit of a "rounder," and damn proud of it. Given my
rather staid sexual relationship with my wife, Anne, I enjoyed living
vicariously through Rick's exploits.

      This lunch fit the normal pattern.  Rick and I spent the first 45 minutes
analyzing and dissecting the antitrust implications of a possible acquisition
by Contrax.  After beating that dead horse one last time, Rick ordered us a
couple of Absolute Citron's with soda and embarked on a recounting of his
latest conquests.

	"Married pussy!" Rick exclaimed.

	"What do you mean, Rick?"  The non-sequitor confused me.

	"Married pussy is the easiest, hottest, wettest pussy in the world."

      "Rick, as a married man, I can speak with some experience and certainty
on this subject. Married pussy is anything but easy, and rarely hot or wet." My
reply was authoritative, but in retrospect I led with my chin on this one.

      "Bill, for such a smart lawyer whom charges $350 an hour, you're a total
dumbshit."

      I like Rick, but he's also a bit abrasive and arrogant. Sometimes he can
really push my buttons.

      Rick continued, "when I speak of married pussy, I'm talking about fucking
pussies that are married to other men.  More times than not, a married woman is
dying for a thorough fucking from a real man, not just the weekly ten minute
diddle they're used to from their husbands."

      "Well, I imagine that there are some dissatisfied wives out there, but as
your friend and attorney, I strongly advise against propositioning married
woman.  You'll end up with, at least a bruised cheek from her slap and, at
worst, excruciating pain from her knee to your groin."

      Rick chuckled, but quickly dismissed my cautions. "Bill, you don't even
have a clue.  In the past three months, I've approached eight different married
woman, and I'm batting a thousand. I've concluded that there isn't a married
woman out there, who given the opportunity, would turn down a sexual romp with
a good-looking man."

      "I don't know what world you've been living in, Rick, but I suspect that
if you approached any of the married women that I know your batting average
would quickly drop to the point that you'd be sent back down to the minors."

	"Like who?"  Rick stared at me confidently.

      I was totally dumbfounded.  I didn't expect to be challenged on this
point. My mind went blank so I tried to avoid the question. "Look, Rick, you
know damn well that there are so many frigid wives living in the suburbs that
your theory can't hold water."

	"Who?" Rick wasn't going to let the question slide.

      My mind was slowly starting to reason again. I didn't really want to give
Rick the names of any of the married women that I know. Rick's the type of guy
who jumps at every challenge. I certainly didn't want him hitting on the wives
of any of my friends. Common sense suggested that the safest thing to do was
rely on my wife, Anne.

      Anne and I have been married for twelve years, with two kids to show for
the venture. Anne is not exactly frigid, but she's also rather conservative
when it comes to sex. Pretty much straight intercourse, with very rare oral
sex, and certainly no anal. From the perspective of frequency, we will usually
have sex 3 or 4 times a month. I knew that Anne would never stray. In fact, she
was a virgin when we married.

	"Well, Rick, like my wife, for example.."

	Rick smirked.  "You mean Anne?"

      Rick had met Anne at a few business functions. Certainly, nothing
untoward occurred. Anne is always the epitome of propriety.  Not that she isn't
strikingly beautiful, but she masks her 5 foot, five inch, 115 lb. frame and
35-21-36 figure in expensive and conservative attire.  One of my unspoken
complaints has always been that Anne's delectable ass is never displayed in a
manner befitting its magnificence. Of course, her dark brown, shoulder length
hair is always perfectly coifed and frames her high cheek-bones, porcelain skin
and full lips.

      "Bill," Rick shook his head in a condescending fashion, "do you really
think for a moment that Anne hasn't fucked around on you?"

      Not wanting to give any credence to Rick's outrageous suggestion, I tried
to remain composed when I confidently replied, "I know she has never cheated
and would never cheat. That's why your hypothesis about married pussy is
fatally flawed."

      "Well, Bill, if Anne hasn't taken on any other men, it's only because
she's never been presented with the right opportunity."

      "Sure, sure, Rick, whatever you say..." My cynical response only served
to heighten Rick's competitive nature.

      "Look, I'll prove it to you if you doubt me... but its got to be a fair
test. You can't purposefully intervene or interfere. You just have to give me a
reasonable chance to prove my point without letting Anne know that's
something's up, I'll admit I'm wrong if I fail. Hell, I'll even let you handle
drafting the Berringer contract at double your hourly rate."

      It sounded like a deal to good to be true. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit
it, but I really wanted the Berringer contract, and double my hourly rate would
pay for a nice ski vacation. Yet, I recognized that Rick's a shrewd man. "What
happens if you're right?" The lawyer in me always tries to weigh all the
variables.

      "See, you're already afraid that I'm right! A second ago, you thought I
was full of shit... I'll tell you what I'll make it an easy wager. If I'm
right, you agree not to interfere and let whatever happens to happen. OK?"

	Less than enthusiastically, I said "Deal."

      For some unexplainable reason, I looked at Anne differently that night as
she emerged from the shower. I wondered how she'd react to Rick coming on to
her. I wondered whether her nipples would become erect in response to his
flirting, whether her pussy would involuntarily lubricate.  As I daydreamed
about the possible scenarios, I suddenly imagined Anne naked, laying on her
back, her legs spread wide, bucking her pelvis wildly to meet the thrusts of
Rick's invading cock. Certainly, I'd never witnessed such a scene when Anne and
I make love. It dawned on me -- as these illicit thoughts cluttered my mind --
that my own dick was hard beyond any normal erection.

      That night I attacked Anne with a fervor. I wanted to reassure myself of
my potency. But, Anne reacted as always, reservedly and in control. Even though
I fucked her with what I thought was superhuman intensity, she laid there,
moving slowly, waiting for me to finish. At the ordained moment, Anne reached
up and began to fondle my balls and the sensitive skin between my scrotum and
asshole. Anne knows that this sensation always sends me over the edge. Even
though I desparately wanted to hold off until her belly rippled with an orgasm,
the sensation was too great, and at the last moment, the image in my mind
returned to Rick slamming his dick into Anne's cunt. I climaxed violently and
collapsed. With her normal grace, Anne slipped out from under me and rolled
over to go to sleep. Yet, for me, these unsettling images continued, until I
too fell into a deep sleep.

      For the next week, I continued to be haunted by these perverse images of
Rick and Anne in the throes of all varieties of sexual couplings. I found
myself masturbating with a fervor that I hadn't known since adolescence.  Of
course, Anne was oblivious, remaining the picture of propriety.  Perhaps
fortunately, I didn't have occasion to speak with Rick during this time frame,
either. the situation began to take on the hazy quality of a wicked nightmare.
That is, until a local charitable cocktail party.

      It was a typically staid affair, with all the frigid wives parading in
their diamonds and designer duds. The husbands, with their fat wallets and
brokerage accounts, sucked down fine whiskey while sharing off-color jokes
about their bimbo secretaries.

      Anne was in her element. She was dressed impeccably in a black, backless
number bearing some French designer's moniker. Actually, it was rather unusual
for Anne, for it displayed her cleavage and a healthy dose of leg. Of course,
Anne had a unique way of looking classy and not the least bit sensual.

      After a couple of vodka and tonics, I was startled by Rick's booming
voice. It  was quite a surprise since Rick normally eschewed these events.
"More boring than trolling for babes at a convent," I remember Rick once
saying.

	"Rick, what the Hell are you doing here?"

      "Bill, you cynical bastard! I'm here because I care deeply about the very
same things that everyone else here cares about"

      "Oh, and just what would that celeb cause be, eh Rick?"

      "Something about irradiating the Bosnian, homosexual humpback whales, I
think." Rick smirked, and in a sarcastic voice said: "You know, Bill, I've
changed my take on these society bashes. While I still believe that the vast
majority of pussies present haven't had a good plowing in the last decade, I've
concluded that this fact presents someone like me with endless possibilities."

      "God, Rick, you're a complete predator!" I replied.

      With that comment, Rick glanced over towards Anne, who was engaged in
some banal conversation with the hostess of the party, and remarked: "So,
speaking of cunts yearning to be filled, how's our little girl, Bill?"

      Flushed with anger and indigence, all I could muster was: "Fuck you,
asshole!"

      "Now, now, Ricky boy, remember our wager. Besides you're so confident
about Anne's fidelity that there's nothing to worry about, right?"

      With that, Rick made a beeline towards Anne.  On the one hand, I felt
like intervening. On the other, I truly wanted the vindication of Anne spurning
Rick's base advances. In the end, I drowned my indecision in more vodka and
tonics.

      As the evening wore on, my stomach felt oddly queasy. This feeling was
exacerbated every time I lost sight of Anne. Yet, throughout, I could not
ignore the aching in my balls.

      To my frustration, Rick had succeeded in cornering Anne into a long one
on one conversation. This was quite surprising since Anne was notorious for her
ability to work a crowd. Many times, people would come up to Anne and
apparently interject themselves into the conversation. Normally, Anne would use
the interruption as an opportunity to move on. At the very least, Anne would
always graciously welcome the new party into the discourse. Yet, on this
evening, Anne's body language caused the interlopers to move on after only a
comment or two, leaving her and Rick to themselves.

      Finally, the event was coming to an end, and the caterers began to pack
up. Anne remained clearly in sight, and fully clothed, albeit in conversation
with Rick. At last, I felt a sense of relief and victory, as Anne left Rick and
walked over to me. My elation was short-lived, however.

      "Honey, I don't feel like calling it a night yet. Rick's invited us to
join him for drinks and dancing at a club. What do you say, it'll be fun,
especially after you've had to put up with this boring purgatory for hours."

      I had no choice but to agree. I certainly couldn't beg off and tell that
I'd wagered her fidelity for some good billable work. Likewise, I would be
breaching the deal with Rick if I interfered.

      "Sure, honey, that sounds great." While I was less than enthusiastic, I
rationalized away the risk that Rick might actually succeed. After all Anne had
done nothing improper, yet.

      Perhaps ill advisedly, I had more vodka and tonics when we reached the
club. The dim lights and smokey air of the club further clouded my self induced
alcoholic haze. The loud music also rang in my ears and distorted the
conversation.  Rick had strategically sat next to Anne in the booth, relegating
me to the other side of the table. My inability to make out or participate in
the dialogue heightened my paranoia.

      Rick was chatting up Anne with aplomb, and had even maneuvered his arm
around her shoulder. When it came time for dancing, I was in no condition to
spell Anne from Rick's devious onslaught. Putting aside my agreement not to
intercede, my coordination was completely shot from the drinking.

      At first, it was fast dancing, leaving Rick little opportunity for bodily
contact. However, late in the evening, the music slowed and Rick pressed
himself close to Anne. My senses may have been dulled, or my paranoia rampant,
but I could swear that I saw Anne grinding her belly into Rick's bulging groin.
Maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself, but as I downed my n-teenth vodka
and tonic, I began to visualize illicit pictures of Rick fucking Anne
ferociously with Anne bucking back like a thousand dollar slut.

      Rick and Anne had, meanwhile, danced their way to the most remote and
dark corner of the dance floor. Again, my perceptions might not have been
acute, but I am sure I saw Rick and Anne engaged in a never ending, French kiss
while Rick slowly stroke her ass and fondled the sides of her breasts.

      Blessedly, closing time finally arrived. As we staggered to the door, I
surrendered to Anne the keys to the car. Rick said something about a nightcap
at his place and, for an instant, my heart stopped. But, for some reason, Anne
declined. I poured myself into the leather passenger seat of our BMW. Before
Anne got in she said "Ooops, just a second I think I left something in the
club."

      I was able to watch Anne in the passenger rearview mirror as she walked
back to the club. But, she didn't go in. Instead, she went up to Rick as he was
unlocking the door to his Mercedes. Again, they kissed...not very long though.
I could see Anne and Rick exchange brief words. With a sly smile, Rick placed
his hand on Anne's right tit as she turned to walk back to the car.

      Anne made a little small talk on the drive home, but her thoughts were
clearly elsewhere. Although my cock was turgid all evening long, the alcohol
caused me to elect sleep over a desparately needed fuck once we got home. Yet,
during the night, I slept fitfully, awakening often. At least twice, I heard
Anne breathing heavily and the rhythmic sound of her hand vigorously at work
between her legs.

      The next day, Rick called and invited me to lunch. I hoped that he would
simply take pleasure in the fact that he had groped my wife, and let the
"wager" drop. But, this hope was dashed almost immediately.

      "Billy boy! How are you feeling after all that booze. Probably not as
good as I was "feeling" last night, if you catch my drift."

      The sinking feeling in my stomach again sank in, and I could actually
feel my manhood shrink.

	"Look," I implored, "why don't we just call the bet a draw"

      "No go, Billy. That wouldn't be very sporting. Especially after all my
hard work. But, I'll tell you what: Let me try to ask Anne out alone just once.
If she turns me down, I yield the point."

      "Okay. It's a deal." I reluctantly agreed, believing that Anne would
never risk being seen alone, in public, with Rick.

      Rick was smirking like a cat with canary feathers hanging out of its
mouth.

	"What the hell are you smiling about!"

      "Well, Bill, I forgot to share one little fact before you agreed:  I
already asked and Anne accepted. We're going out tonight."

      I felt as if I was going to implode. That morning, Anne had asked for me
to watch the kids because she was going to have a girl's night out with her
best friend, Kathy. We had allowed one another "night's out" since our last
child was born as a method of preserving our sanity. I never dreamed that Anne
might use this arrangement to fool around on me. Of course, Rick could be
bullshitting me. I'll never put that above him.

      "Tell you what Bill," Rick continued, "at the end of the evening I'll
give you a call to let you know that Anne's on the way home. Just to make it
interesting, I'll let the phone ring once if nothing happens, twice if she only
allows a little petting like last night, three times if she blows me, and four
rings if she is well fucked."

      When I got home that evening, Anne was busily getting ready to go out.
But, she didn't act or dress any differently than on other occasions. I
rationalized that Rick was simply torturing me, and that Anne was going out
with Kathy.

      On the way out the door, Anne gave my her traditional peck, and said:
"Kathy and I are going to catch that new French film and maybe go out for
dinner and drinks afterwards. It's a three hour movie, so I'll probably be
late... no need to wait up."

      Initially, ignorance was bliss. I chose to disregard Rick's boastfulness
and, instead, trust Anne's honesty. Yet, once I put the kids down, my mind
began to wander. A combination of jealousy and uncertainty gnawed at my brain.
But, at the same time, I felt bad about doubting Anne.

      By 10:30 PM, my stomach became unsettled in the same fashion as the night
before when Anne and Rick were on the dance floor. By 11:30 PM, my paranoia
overcame reason and I thought about ways to confirm Anne's fidelity.

      So, in a very sophomoric manner, I called Kathy's telephone number.
Embarrassed, I almost hang up after the second ring, but then a groggy voice
answered "hello." It was unmistakably Kathy's voice, and it sounded as if I'd
awakened her from a deep sleep. Flabbergasted, I set down the receiver without
saying a word.

      To my ironic dismay, I'd proven that I wasn't paranoid. Anne was out with
Rick.

      As midnight eased into the early morning hours, my mental imagery was
torture. I would alternate between fantasies of Rick fucking Anne in all
different positions, with fantasies of Anne resolutely turning down Rick's
advances, saying "No, I'm a married woman!"

      Tellingly, my cock was rock hard as I imagined Rick plowing into Anne's
pussy. With guilty perversion, I stroked myself to an incredible orgasm, which
brought on sleep.

      Suddenly, I awoke to the sound of the telephone. I looked at the clock;
it was 2:26 AM! It seemed like an eternity before the phone rang for a second
time. I quickly rationalized that Anne had already engaged in a heavy petting
session with Rick, so this second ring should not be that surprising. But, just
then, the phone rang for a third time. The shock of the thought of Anne sucking
on Rick's dick staggered me. I waited with dreaded anticipation, wondering if
the caller had hung up.

      BBBRRRRIIINNNGGG! The fourth ring pierced through the darkness of my
bedroom. Instantaneously, my cock erupted in another climax without the aid of
manual stimulation.

      There I laid in the dark. My belly covered with my own cum. The phone
hadn't rung a fifth time. Yet, I still wondered whether Rick was intentionally
torturing me. After all, this was hardly evidence that Anne had succumbed to
Rick's seduction. At most, it merely suggested that Rick and Anne had been
together. While their being together was not particularly comforting, it
certainly didn't prove infidelity.

	So, I waited for Anne to get home.


                                   Chapter 2

      She arrived about fifteen minutes after the fourth ring of the telephone.
Anne slipped into the bedroom without turning on the light. Apparently, she
thought I was asleep and I didn't disabuse of the notion. She seemed somewhat
unsteady on her feet, perhaps the result of a little too much alcohol.
Unfortunately, it was too dark to make out anything more than her silhouette as
Anne discarded her clothing into the hamper. Nude, she made her way to the
bathroom and closed the door. I was a bit surprised to hear the shower since
Anne normally showered in the morning. But, it did afford me an opportunity to
inspect her dirty clothes.

      At first,  I noticed nothing abnormal other than the smell of smoke that
garments always collect in restaurants and nightclubs. Of course, I didn't want
to turn on the light so my inspection was hampered. When I retrieved Anne's
panties from the hamper, I felt an obvious wetness. In fact, the crotch was
thoroughly sopping. Instinctively, I brought the soiled panties to my nose. The
aroma was striking. While I immediately recognized the feminine smell of Anne's
sexual lubricants, there was some other smell even more evident. It was a
familiar, pungent aroma ...it was the same fragrance that I smelled twenty
minutes earlier when my balls spewed my second load of the night.

      Oddly, these mixed remnants were not in the least bit offensive. I
slipped the panties into one of my drawers for further examination in the
daylight hours.

      When Anne exited the bathroom, she had already turned out the light so
again my vision was impaired. But, she did walk as if she had just finished a
15k road race. Anne slipped a white nightgown over her head and climbed into to
bed.

      There was no effort by Anne to make physical contact with me. Instead,
she rolled over on her stomach with her face away from me towards the wall.
Within seconds, I could hear the sound of her deep breathing as if she was
already in REM sleep.

      I didn't want to wake her, but my curiosity persisted. After about thirty
minutes, I extracted my pen light from my bed stand and flicked it on under the
covers. Anne's nightgown had ridden up, fully exposing her legs and ass. Just
then, she moved her right leg giving me a clear view of her pussy from behind.
I was amazed by what I saw.

      Anne's labia were swollen and pink. In the place of her normal little
slit was a gaping opening where I thought I could see all the way up her vagina
to the cervix. There were no apparent fluids; she must have cleaned and dried
herself in the shower.  I marveled at the sight. It was something I'd never
even seen, not even on our wedding night. I could only imagine the size of the
organ that must have done this damage to Anne's womanhood. I certainly wouldn't
be enjoying the pleasures of Ann's tight cunt for some time. if ever again.

      Approach avoidance.  In the morning, while Anne slept, my feelings
alternated between abject depression and wanton lust. Fortunately, when I began
to slip in the abyss of bemoaning the fact that Anne had been unfaithful, I
pulled out Anne's panties. The negative thoughts dissipated as my erection
grew. The fluids had dried into an obvious yellowish stain, but the odor
remained unmistakable. I found the aroma intoxicating.

      I found myself masturbating frantically in the bathroom as I held Anne's
soiled panties pressed to my nose. As I came, I knew that this intense sexual
experience was addictive, and not one easily dismissed.

      Yet, as I drove to work the depression began to set in. My self-esteem
was suffering from being cuckholded.

      A little after 11 AM, my secretary buzzed in to let me know that Rick
Robertson was on the line. I knew that this call would come, but my heart began
to race nonetheless. Surprisingly, Rick said nothing about the night before,
instead concentrating his comments on my draft of the Berringer contract. He
then suggested that we get together for lunch to discuss some of the deal
points.

      I felt strangely uncomfortable around Rick at lunch. Every time he looked
at me, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering how he'd fucked Anne
last night? Was he wondering what kind of a wimp I was to allow my wife to be
screwed by another guy? Had Anne said anything about my sexual prowess?

      After we'd finished talking about the Berringer deal, there was a very
pregnant pause. Rick just sat there and stared, a smirk beginning to form on
his face. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. I felt as if I was out of
control, in a free fall.

      Finally, Rick ended my misery. "So, I guess I proved my point. And, gee,
Bill, I'm really sorry about the condition of Anne's pussy. I never dreamt that
she could be so tight after years of marriage."

      Rick had done it again: pushed my button. I really should have just
admitted it and walked away with my tail (or dick) between my legs. But, I
don't know if it was masochism or simply sheer stupidity, I took an
indefensible and idiotic position.

      "Rick, you've proved nothing. Anne was out last with her friend Kathy. I
know it for a fact. You have no evidence that you nailed Anne, other than the
fact that you sat at home and called my phone number late last night. The fact
that you know how to dial my phone number proves nothing."

      Rick was honestly taken aback by my vigorous defense. After a moment, he
just shook his head incredulously and laughed. "Okay, if proof is what you
want, proof is what you'll get."

      As we parted, Rick was still smiling and shaking his head. On the other
hand, I was kicking myself. What had I done?! I'd just invited Rick to go after
Anne again! As I continued to marvel at my incredible gaff, I began to suspect
that my subconscious may have played a very significant role in my actions.
Indeed, I could feel my cock swell as I considered the prospect of a return
engagement between Rick and Anne.

      The next week, Anne asked for another "girls' night out." Of course, I
had to agree. This time she dressed in a more provocative manner: a black silk
slip dress, no bra (something I'd never seen Anne do before) and I think she
was wearing black thong panties (to my knowledge Anne didn't own any underwear
of this type). Anne concocted no alibi this time, rather she simply kissed me
on the cheek and said not to wait up.

      After the kids were asleep, I drank three beers and retired to my bed
sans clothes. With absolutely no sense of personal dignity, I fondled and
sniffed Anne's cum soaked panties while imagining the salacious things that she
and Rick must be doing at that very moment. I stroked myself to at least two
good climaxes before falling asleep.

      Even in my dreams, I saw Anne's slender legs wrapped around Rick's torso,
bucking frantically as he battered her crotch repeatedly with his thick, erect
penis. Just as I heard Anne moaning in orgasm in my dream, and visualized
Rick's balls tightening and shooting their load into Anne's convulsing cunt, a
piercing sound returned me to consciousness. It was the phone.

      In an almost Pavlovian manner, I sat up in bed on the first ring. With
the second ring, I regained my orientation. The third ring brought a tingling
sensation to my testicles and nipples. The fourth ring triggered another
eruption from my dick. Then there was only silence as my semen pooled on my
belly and I looked over to see the clock radiate 2:49 AM.

      When I heard Anne come in about 15 minutes later, I wondered what Rick's
idea of proof might be. Anne staggered into the bedroom. She pulled her slip
dress over her head. While the only light source was the LED on our alarm
clock, I could tell that she had no panties on.

	"Damn," I thought. No chance for a fresh source of masturbatory smells.

      Then, to my surprise, Anne just climbed into bed naked, without taking a
shower or putting on a nightgown. I could smell alcohol on her breath and, I
think, Rick's cologne in her hair. She rolled over towards me, and kissed me,
deeply thrusting her in my mouth. Her lips were loose and her saliva flowed
freely all over my cheeks and chin. Anne had never kissed me in such a wanton
and messy fashion before. The taste of alcohol was unmistakable, but mixed in
were flavors with which I was unfamiliar. I don't know if it was the alcohol,
but when Anne finally withdrew her lips, my face was coated with a sticky and
slimy residue.

      Before I could fully assess the situation, Anne grabbed the back of my
hair with both hands and forcefully guided my head underneath the sheets.  My
cheek brushed her left nipple which was erect and harder than I'd ever
experienced. Anne kept pushing my head until I was between her legs.  This was
quite out of the norm; Anne had never demanded oral sex before.  If I went down
on her, it was always at my instigation.

      There I was in the darkness, under the covers. For all intents and
purposes, I was blind. Yet, my other senses were heightened. The aroma
emanating from Anne's crotch was pungent. It was the same odor I remembered
from her soiled panties, only intensified. There were squishing sounds coming
from her pussy, and every so often, a little "fart" of air would escape.

      Impatiently, Anne ground my face into her groin. I could feel a hot,
slimy, sticky pool of fluids soaking her pubic hair and cradled by the folds of
her spread labia. Instinctively, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue into
the void between her thighs. The opening to Anne's vagina was enormous. It
seemed wide enough to consume my nose, mouth and chin.  My tongue caught a huge
glob of the flow which oozed from her cunt. The strong taste was foreign to me:
tart and salty with a tinge of the musky flavor of Anne's vaginal juices.

      Now there was no denying it. I was swallowing the semen Rick's cock had
deposited deep in my wife's pussy. Common sense, Judeo-Christian morality and
years of heterosexuality dictated that I should be revolted. But, my rigid dick
and throbbing prostate said otherwise. With a fervor, I began tonguing Anne's
swollen and distended labia lips seeking to savor the remnants that had already
escaped from her cunt. I sucked what seemed like a endless stream of semen from
the depths of her vagina. All the while Anne moaned and rocked her pelvis
against my jaw. I heard myself whimpering with satisfaction as if I were a
suckling infant taking nourishment from a mother's tit.

      Time and time again, I tried to extend my tongue and swab Anne's cervix,
but I couldn't. Rick's dick must have been not only thick as a redwood but long
as one. He must have pounded Anne's cervix well up into her belly.

      After Anne had convulsed in orgasm, a thicker flow of cum poured forth. I
lapped it up and became to wonder if Rick's sperm had made its way into Anne's
womb. Even though I knew Anne was on the pill, the thought of Rick's virile
seed swimming in search of one of Anne's eggs, sent me over the edge. Without
even touching myself, I came again, my semen pooling on the mattress as I
continued to coax every drop of Rick's semen from my wife's folds.

      After what must have been ninety minutes of furious efforts, Anne had
climaxed three times and was clean as a whistle. I, too, was hard again, but
Anne was asleep and there was nary a dollop of sperm left in her vagina. With
some hesitancy, I decided to fuck Anne myself. I positioned my penis at her
gaping hole. Literally no pressure was necessary as my dick disappeared. It was
a loose, warm sensation as I moved my erection around this vast expanse that
had once been a tight little pussy known only to me. There was ample room for
more and Anne's vagina almost engulfed my balls as well. Apparently, the
absence of friction allowed Anne to sleep through the five minutes of my
squirming inside of her. I tried to hold off as long as possible, but the
thought slipping around in my wife's used pussy was too much. I added my light
load to the scene of the crime and fell into a deep sleep.

      The next morning (which seemed to come to soon), I awoke with a crusty
residue coating my face. Rick and Anne's combined juices had dried like a tight
mask. I showered and left for work, leaving Anne asleep. Her face seemed
contented.


                                   Chapter 3

      Predictably, Rick called mid-morning to schedule a lunch. I was resigned
to the continued humiliation of picking up the check for the man who made me a
cuckhold.

      Rick was beaming with his sense of achievement when I met him at the
cafe'. As we sat down at our table, Rick crowed "So, how's my boy? I hope your
mommy taught you to be a good loser."

      Perhaps I lacked the depth of conviction from my earlier denials, but I
surprised myself by conjuring up enough strength to say: "Rick, I'm really
tiring of this entire charade. You haven't accomplished anything, and you
certainly have no proof."

      "Tsk, tsk, tsk.." Rick replied as he shook his head condescendingly. As
he did, Rick reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a pair of black silk
thong panties which he deposited on my plate.

      I immediately recognized the panties as the pair that I'd seen on Anne
for the first time, the night before. After regaining some composure, I picked
the panties up with my finger and, while dangling them in front of Rick, said
"Rick, I'm surprised, I never knew this side of you. After all, a man of your
station in life shouldn't wear women's underwear!"

      Rick was not amused. "Look, pencil-dick ... this is your proof. Those are
Anne's panties that I kept as a souvenir from last night."

      "Oh, that explains the phone call in the middle of the night." I smirked.
"It was you up to your old games. Damn near woke both me and Anne up. Oh, by
the way, Anne doesn't wear or own any thong panties."

      As I surreptitiously slid the panties in my jacket pocket (for later
examination and sniffing), Rick's face got red and angry. Then, he relaxed and
suddenly began to laugh loudly.

      "Okay, okay, I get it. I think I know what's going on." Rick gasped after
stifling his guffaw. "Kinda strange, but whatever floats your boat!  If you
want undeniable proof, you shall have it."

      The rest of the lunch proceeded without mention of Anne or the wager.
But, I did catch myself noticing Rick's cologne, the same smell that Anne
brought home. I also began to imagine what Rick looked like in the nude with
particular time spent visualizing his erect cock and heavy testicles. Indeed,
kinda strange for a married, hetero guy.

      For the next few days, I wondered what kind of proof Rick had in mind. To
my disappointment, Anne did not ask for any "girls' nights out."  I was doubly
disappointed to discover that the "prize" thong panties did not have any dried
semen. There was the discernible aroma of Anne's juices, but missing was the
pungent odor of a man's ejaculate.

      The next Wednesday, Rick called and invited me to lunch, again. I was
surprised. Anne hadn't gone out at all the preceding evenings. My curiosity was
piqued as I hurried to keep the lunch date. I was anxious and it didn't help
that Rick was running late. I was so nervous that I ordered a drink, something
that I never do at lunch. After about ten minutes of fidgeting, The waiter came
over and handed me an envelope with my name on it. I opened it and found a
novelty greeting card with the picture of a shapely young woman bending over to
reveal an ass comparable to Anne's with lace panties. On the inside, it read
"The End is in Sight!"  Underneath was handwritten: "Your absolute proof awaits
you in the master bath of your house ...Rick"

      I threw a $20 down on the table and left the cafe' like a bat out of
Hell. Fortunately, there were no speed traps between the restaurant and my
house. When I arrived, I noticed that Anne's car was still in the garage, but
she was nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, I headed straight to the master
bath. But, to my frustration, there was nothing! Absolutely, nothing was amiss
or out of the ordinary! Like a fumbling treasure hunter, I looked in every
drawer and cupboard, under ever towel, even in the toilet tank. Zippo! I was
ready to go track down Rick and knock the shit out of him, when I heard the
front door open. Anne's laughter was immediately recognizable. But, she was
talking to someone else and moving towards the bedroom.

      My instincts motivated my to hide or run. In retrospect, it was absurd.
Here I was in my own home, feeling like a burglar.

      Since I knew that the French doors to our bedroom were looked, I was
trapped in the master bath. I switched off the light, and hoped that Anne
didn't need to use the facilities.

      Initially, I sat quietly on the commode. Anne's voice grew louder as I
heard her enter the bedroom. When I could make out what she was saying, I was
shocked.

      "God! I'm dripping wet! My panties are soaking." Anne exclaimed
breathlessly.

      Whether by serendipity or by plan, I realized that I could see most of
the bedroom including our bed in the reflection of the vanity mirror.  There, I
saw a reversed image of Anne unzipping a stylish red skirt and letting it fall
to the floor where she kicked it away from her feet. She was still wearing
matching red pumps and thigh-high stockings. The tail of her white, silk blouse
covered her panties.

      Although I was somewhat disoriented by the mirror image, I realized that
she was looking towards the door to the living room as she began to slowly
unbutton her blouse. As she did, she licked her lips in a seductive manner I
had never seen before. With a glistening pout, she finished with the last
button. Anne opened the blouse that slipped from her shoulders to the floor. To
my surprise, Anne was not wearing a bra.  Her 34B breasts were fully exposed
with her nipples erect. With her blouse gone, I could finally see Anne's
panties. They were skimpy, high-cut and, she was right. There was a very
noticeable dark wet spot seeping through the crotch.

      Anne's gaze was still directed towards the bedroom door. "Do you still
like what you see?" Anne asked in a deep voice.

	I heard a  male voice reply "umm-hmmm."

	"Prove it. Show me that you like it." Anne commanded.

      From my angle, I couldn't see her male guest, but I knew it had to be
Rick. I heard the sound of rustling clothes and, then, an unzipping zipper.
With that sound, Anne's eyes grew very large as she looked down.  Her breathing
grew faster, and she started manipulating her hard nipples.

      "God. It looks even larger in the day light." Anne licked her lips again
while working her nipples.

      Suddenly, Anne squatted down gracefully keeping her balance in her high
heels. With her legs spread, emphasizing the growing wet spot that now almost
saturated the entirety of her underwear, Anne beckoned with her index finger.
"Please ... bring it here. I need to taste it, feel it ..."

      In anticipation, both Anne and I waited. The on the edge of the mirror, I
saw a bulbous cock-head, pre-cum fluid dribbling from the hole. It was a little
difficult to estimate its size given the absence of a reference object. But, it
seemed abnormally large. Slowly, the shaft came into view. It too seemed thick
and had bulging veins. I expected to immediately see Rick's body, but more and
more shaft followed until it culminated in dark brown pubic hair with
commensurate testicles swaying heavily between Rick's muscular legs.

      When Rick reached Anne, I could finally appreciate the massive size of
Rick's genitals. His cock-head touched the bottom of her chin while brushing
Anne's nostrils. Its length and girth were far greater than my slim 6 inches. I
mentally guessed 9-10 inches in length and, as Anne grasped his dick, her hand
could not quite encircle it.

      In a worshipping manner, Anne's tongue dabbed up Rick's pre-cum. She then
closed her eyes and kissed the tip of the mammoth rod. Just as Anne's lips
parted wide, in a optimistic effort to give passage to Rick's erection, Rick
motioned to the bed stand and said: "Shouldn't you cover up Bill's picture?"

      With a wicked smile, Anne got up and retrieved our wedding photo that she
kept next to the bed. She strategically placed it on the bed, inches away from
Rick's cock. Then Anne lifted Rick's cock to the photo and, in a flaunting
manner, slurped the head into her mouth.

      The humiliation excited me. Anne's lips were stretched taut and her jaw
wide open as she did her best to fellate Rick. In the background was our
wedding picture. Despite her efforts, Anne's petite mouth could not accommodate
more than 4 inches of Rick's dick.

      After about five minutes of valiant efforts, Anne stopped sucking and
stood up. She slipped her sopping panties off and laid back on the bed.  Her
legs were splayed wide and I could clearly see her engorged labia glistening
with her lubricants.

      "Rick, I need you to fuck me good! It's about time that I get really well
fucked in this bed!"

	That hurt, but my own erection throbbed.

      Anne positioned our wedding portrait at the end of the bed between her
legs. Rick climbed between her thighs and began to run the tip of his cock up
and down Anne's slit. It seemed to dwarf Anne's crotch. Anne's eyes shut and
she began to moan softly as Rick prepped her for entry. As he did, there was a
squishing sound as Anne's juices flowed.

      "I think your pussy is starting to get use to me, its opening wide," Rick
remarked.

      "Ummm-hmmm. It misses your thick, long cock. It wishes that you were
fucking it raw 24 hours a day."

      I was amazed. The impossible seemed to begin to happen. Anne's petite
pussy was expanding beyond anything I'd ever witnessed. Rick's cock-head
disappeared and Anne sighed, breathed in deeply and tilted her pelvis to aid
the invader. The lips to her vagina were stretched around Rick's girth as he
slowly plunged deeper. After about three minutes of maneuvering, I could no
longer see Rick's cock; his grapefruit-sized balls rested in the crack of
Anne's ass. It was an awesome sight.

      Rick began to pump the full length of his cock in and out of Anne's
distended cunt. Anne became very vocal as Rick's tempo increased, moaning and
whimpering in obvious ecstasy. The slurping noises coming from her pussy as
Rick pounded away were nasty. With each thrust, Anne's body would recoil and
her breasts wiggle as Rick's penis rammed her cervix further back into her
abdomen.

      To my amazement, Anne's stomach began to undulate with an orgasm after
about five minutes of frantic fucking. Rick wouldn't let up and allow the
spasms to subside. Instead, he worked Anne's pussy like a finely tuned
instrument, bringing her again and again to climax until I lost count.

      By know my own dick was throbbing as if ready to explode. Suddenly, in
the reflection of the mirror, I saw Rick's pace reach a crescendo, his
sperm-laden balls tightened and with an enormous grunt he launch his cum into
the deepest regions of Anne's over-stretched vagina, at the door to her womb.
Rick's load was so voluminous that there was inadequate space in Anne's vagina
to accommodate both Rick's semen and his convulsing cock. Thick, white cum
oozed out around Rick's embedded shaft.

      Then, I realized that my own cum was saturating my pants and running down
my leg.

      After a momentary respite in which Rick and Anne (and I) caught their
breath, Rick withdrew his still erect member with a "plop" from Anne's gaping
opening. Anne proceeded to suck Rick for all she was worth. Anne's cultured
restraint and manners were all but gone; she slurped and lapped with utter
abandon. After about fifteen minutes of ministrations, Rick rolled Anne over on
to all fours and plunged back in doggy-style.

      Rick spent the next 90 minutes fucking Anne in every imaginable position.
Twice more he spewed his semen into her pussy, each time his load seemed,
incredibly, to be as large as the first. Rick cum matted Anne's dark pubic hair
and flowed freely from her cunt after Rick withdrew for the last time. Anne had
had innumerable orgasms and collapsed, naked but for the sweat glistening all
over her body. Rick dressed walked over and kissed Anne fully on the lips.
Exhausted, she mumbled, "Thank you for cumming ...please cum again."

      Before Rick left the bedroom, he turned to the darkness in the master
bathroom and looked directly into the vanity mirror. It immediately dawned on
me that reflections work both directions. Staring with a satisfied smirk, Rick
zipped up his fly with an arrogant flair. Without saying a word, he turned and
left.

      I waited for another fifteen minutes to see if Anne would also leave, but
she was sound asleep. As I emerged from the bathroom, the smell of sex
permeated the room. I looked at my satiated wife splayed nude on our marital
bed with another man's sperm running out of her well-worn pussy.  The picture
was too much for me to take. I climbed into bed between her legs and proceeded
to lick the remnants of the illicit coupling from her folds. Anne moaned
quietly, as my tongue darted in and out of her swollen labia, but her eyes
never opened. My own frenzy increased as I slobbered, face down in her crotch.
After sucking every available drop out, I noticed that I'd come again. Then,
exhaustion overtook me as well, and I fell into a deep sleep.

      When I awoke, it was 9:30 PM, Anne was out in the den watching TV with
the kids who'd since come home from school. Embarrassed, I didn't say anything
to Anne. She, too, was silent although there was a contented smile on her face.

      In the nine months which have passed since Rick gave me "absolute proof,"
Anne will go out once or twice a week and return home in the wee hours of the
morning. Sometimes Rick will still call before she comes home and let the phone
ring four times. When Anne comes in, there is no doubt that she has been
well-fucked. Without mentioning anything, she strips out of her clothes, climbs
on top of me, straddles my head and lowers her sopping, oozing pussy onto my
mouth for cleaning.

      This past week, after sucking down the last dollop of Rick's semen from
her now-permanently enlarged pussy, Anne surprised me by mentioning that she
was thinking about having another child. Instantaneously, I shot my load... You
see, I hadn't cum inside her vagina for almost five months.  I wonder how she
plans on getting pregnant?!

                                      End.