Of course, he was sure I’d be terribly hurt, and he kept apologizing. But I stopped him and made the same sort of admission. I knew I wanted a lot more than I was getting. Drake looked completely flabbergasted when I said that. "But you always have a good time," he said. "You have orgasms."
"Not always, honey. Not always."
He stared at me. "So what am I doing wrong?"
I thought it about for a several moments. "It isn’t about being wrong," I said. "Just different."
"Different how?"
"First you tell me something. Have you been with anyone else since we got married?"
"No," he said firmly, and I believed him. "But . . ."
"But what?"
"I do some other things."
"Such as," I asked, feeling a little temper rising.
"Nothing like cheating. Just fantasizing, you know, with magazines, some films, like that."
"You mean pictures of naked women, and porn movies."
"Like that, yeah." He was squirming a little.
"And what makes those women in the magazines and movies so special?"
"They’re not," he said quickly. "I mean, they’re not special like you are. It’s just that you wouldn’t ever want to be . . . um . . . act like they do, I mean do certain kinds of things."
"What exactly?"
He turned slightly red in the face. "I don’t think we should discuss that."
"Why, how kinky is it?" I asked him point blank and he just stared at me.
He cleared his throat. "I think you’d find some things offensive, I mean they’re not very ladylike, you know."
I had to laugh. He was thoroughly puzzled. "Drake. You treat me like some sort of stuck-up Victorian lady who barely likes sex, as if I’d go all to pieces if you said the "fuck" in front of me."
He looked as if I’d slapped him. "I never thought you were stuck-up at all, that’s ridiculous. I just wanted to treat you right and I thought, well, the things that turn me on aren’t what nice girls do."
"Isn’t that a little old-fashioned? Sounds like my mother talking. We ‘girls’ can do whatever turns us on, too, you know. But I never talked to you about it because I was so worried you’d think I was not the woman you thought you married. You know, Drake, I wasn’t a virgin before I met you, and I told you so."
"Well, of course. I mean we were both in our twenties. It would be silly to expect that you hadn’t been with anyone."
"But you never asked."
"I didn’t really want to know," he replied.
"Then I may as well tell you the whole story of my college days, and grad school, too. But first I want you to tell me what it is that really turns you on, what makes you hot and makes your dick hard?"
He blinked several times, since I rarely talked that way. "I . . . that is . . . no, I can’t."
It took almost half an hour to convince my dear husband to come clean about his particular inclinations. And he wasn’t all that specific, but what I began to realize is that Drake wanted to be a sexually dominant male, and he was holding back those needs because he thought it wasn’t right to behave that way toward his wife.
I decided it was time to let him off the hook a little. "You know, honey, it’s the same old story. Women never know quite what to be. Is it true that you want us to be whores in the bedroom and lacy, frilly homemakers the rest of the time? Or if we act like sluts in the bedroom, do you think less of us?"
"No," he said, "it isn’t a bad thing if you enjoy yourself. I want you to enjoy yourself. I didn’t realize you weren’t."
"I wasn’t all that honest about it, so what I’m going to tell you might come as a shock, but I’ll take that chance. But promise me one thing."
"Before I start, I want you to go and get some of those magazines and videos of yours and bring them in here from wherever you’ve been hiding them. I won’t look at them yet, but I will afterward."
He didn’t look pleased, or willing, but he went out to the garage and after several minutes came back with a paper bag and put in on the coffee table.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "I masturbate every day. . . in the shower, in the bedroom, the living room, even the laundry room. I even sometimes do it at my desk at work with my office door closed."
His eyes widened.
"And some days more than once if it’s a day we haven’t made love. But here’s the thing, Drake. Mostly I’m not fantasizing about you. And I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings. But mostly I replay some other experiences, and imagine ones I’d like to have. Now I told you I’d had lovers. How many did you suppose there were?"
"A few," he said cautiously.
"More than a few," I paused for effect, "and not all individually."
He swallowed hard, but I couldn’t quite gauge his reaction yet.
"My first couple of boyfriends in high school were totally inept at sex, and I was disappointed, wondering what all the hype was about. Why was sex supposed to be so great and it was just these boys desperate to get into my panties and they’d beg for it." I sat back on the sofa and got comfortable.
Then the first year of college began and I started dating a guy from a fraternity, Philip. He was a senior, older and good looking. I was flattered. And there was something about him that made me excited, sexually excited. The first time we did it was a little disappointing thought I wasn’t sure why. He was very skillful, I think, and took a great deal of time making sure I was enjoying myself, but he wasn’t really all ‘there’ if you know what I mean. A couple of times he sort of stopped himself. Once he grabbed my tits kind of hard and shoved back down on the bed, and then immediately apologized. I said it was okay, and it was. That moment sent this electric shock through me."
I paused and took a sip of wine. Drake was starting to look very interested in the story.
"A month or so later, we went to a fraternity party, and he got a lot more drunk than he ever had. He lived at the frat house, and had a room to himself. Of course, we ended up there, and I wasn’t any too sober either. But as soon as we got through the door and he locked it, he was all over me. He ripped my blouse open and the buttons flew everywhere. My first reaction was to be totally pissed off because I’d just bought that blouse and he’d ruined it. So I said something, called him a jackass or a son of a bitch or some other name, and he did what I didn’t expect at all. He didn’t apologize, or offer to buy me a new blouse, or anything. Instead, he sort of smiled, and said, ‘If I want you naked, I don’t care how you get that way. And I’m going to fuck your brains out because that’s what you’re here for.’ And he put his hand on his crotch. I could see the outlines of his hard cock. He stood there looking at me up and down, and said, ‘what are you waiting for, bitch? Strip and then get on your knees and start servicing me.’"
Drake had turned pale, and then red again. I wasn’t sure what to make of it until I glanced down at his crotch. I almost smiled. A man’s dick will give him away every time. My husband saw the direction I was looking and quickly crossed his legs, so I didn’t comment on it. But I saw which way the wind was blowing and had a pretty good idea what sort of materials I’d find in the paper bag. I was feeling the beginnings of relief because for all I knew he could have been into boys, or underage girls, or something else out of the range of what I could understand.
"So what did you do?" he asked, his voice sort of squeaky.
"I did what he said. I took off my bra and my skirt and pantyhose and panties, and got on my knees."
"But why? It was like he was going to rape you."
"If I hadn’t been willing, then it would have been, and I would have screamed my head off. Of course the cops back then would have snickered and winked and let him go anyway. Date rape wasn’t even acknowledged back then. But that isn’t what this was about, not really, although it took me quite a while to figure out. I didn’t really want to say ‘no,’ and I never did say that. For all I know, he might have backed off if I had. Or he might have had me anyway. Of course, the next day I was mortified at what I’d done, ashamed, feeling like a traitor to the female gender."
"But what did you actually do that was so . . . traitorous?" Drake was breathing a little heavier, and I knew the instinctive voyeur present in most men was coming to the surface.
"Everything he ordered me to do. I sucked his cock for as long he wanted, and as deep as he wanted to shove it into my mouth. I swallowed his cum because he told me to. I spread myself wide open, and offered my pussy to him because he demanded it. And later on I got on my hands and knees and begged him to fuck me from behind, doggie style. And when he asked me if I was a bitch in heat, his bitch, I said ‘yes.’"
Drake was really squirming now, trying to disguise his own arousal. But I could feel it. This was what my husband found erotic, arousing. He wanted to behave just as my college frat boy had.
"You said you regretted it, though, the next day."
"Naturally. And I chalked it up to being drunk, and decided he must have slipped me some drug or other to make me act like a total slut. I couldn’t accept that the girl who’d literally begged to have her pussy raped was me. I thought I’d been a ‘bad girl’," I said. "Civilized, well brought up young women weren’t supposed to act like brazen hussies."
"So what happened?"
"Philip happened. He was mature for his age, and he knew he’d awakened in me, a natural tendency I suppose, to be submissive. In public, he was polite, yet very firm. He no longer asked me where I wanted to go, or anything like that. He simply told me what we’d be doing on our dates. And when we were alone, he was never cruel, but he treated me like, well . . . his personal sex slave, I guess you’d say."
"How exactly," Drake asked, almost panting at that point.
"He started out slowly, but kept escalating, to see how far I could be subdued to his wishes. At first he was much like that night in the frat house room, telling me to strip for him, offer myself, suck his cock, but always behind a locked door. And he wanted it just about every day. Whenever he showed up at my room, or I came to his room, I knew what was expected. Before dinner, after dinner, whenever.
"Next he began telling me what to wear, buying me certain kinds of clothes, demanding I go on dates without wearing any panties.
"Then he started fondling me in public, taking me to bars where people knew him and let me in even though I was underage. He’d comment on my physical attributes, ask the bartender what he thought of my tits while he squeezed them. And every time I was embarrassed, but . . ."
"But what?"
"Aroused. Philip would reach under my skirt, even sitting right there on a bar stool, where other people could see him do it, and feel me up, laugh at how wet I was. And make me lick his fingers." Even I blushed to relate this, but Drake was absolutely riveted by the story. He’d even forgotten to try and hide his erection, and the front of his pants bulged in an appetizingly obscene way.
"And he got more aggressive as time went on, a little rougher. Never enough to really hurt me, but enough to make me feel he was in control. He found out it turned me on when he was rough with my tits, and spanked my ass or slapped my pussy a little. And he knew the dirtier his language, the hotter it made me. I couldn’t help it."
"But what did you mean about there being several at one time?" he asked.
I smiled because I knew he’d get around to that question as soon as possible.
"Well, as I said, Philip kept escalating. At first it was more blatant exhibitionism, though not out in really public places. That part he restricted to the frat house. There was a rec room on the lower floor, a big place with a bar and pool tables and a pinball machine. One night, we were playing pool, and there were a several of his fraternity brothers watching, or playing pinball. I bent over to make a shot, and Philip put his hand firmly on my back, pressing me against the table, and lifted my skirt. Of course, I had no panties on. "Hey guys," he said, "didn’t I tell you this was the sweetest piece of ass on campus? See for yourselves."
"I felt my face go hot, but I couldn’t move. All of them came to stand behind me and made every sort of lewd joke and comment you can imagine. Asked Philip how good a fuck I was, whether I was a competent cocksucker. How tight was my pussy. And he answered every one of them, while fondling my ass and running his fingers along the lips of my pussy. It seemed like an hour before he let me stand up, but it was probably only a few minutes. He told them the show was over. And I couldn’t face any of them, but since my eyes were lowered, I could see a lot of bulging trousers and jeans.
Then he looked at me defiantly, as if daring me to make a scene, or call the police, or whatever. I stood there so confused, kind of outraged, but also deeply aroused, so far down inside. I can’t explain it really. He waited, running the pool cue back and forth through his hands. "Well?" he asked.
"Well, what?"
"You didn’t really mind, did you. Me showing off your ass and that lovely cunt of yours. My brothers here enjoyed the view. Of course they’ve liked the stories even more."
"Stories?" I asked, feeling a little nauseous because I knew what was coming.
"Sure. We tell each other everything. They know all about what a horny little slut you are. They know you suck cock better than any whore down on First Street. They know you beg for it, cream your panties when I tell you to, back when I let you wear panties. And they know how much you liked it when I fucked you in the ass." He stepped closer. "They know, I know, and most of all, Linda my little slut, you know." He put the cue down and stepped up close and squeezed my tits hard, his thumbs and forefingers pinching my nipples. "Now are you going to run away, little girl, or do what’s good for you? Tell me to take my hands off your tits, and walk out. You won’t hear from me again, I guarantee it."
I paused and Drake looked as if he were going to burst with curiosity, and his cock burst through his pants. "What did you do?"
"I didn’t say anything. I just waited and let him keep squeezing and rubbing. He smiled, this long, slow, knowing sort of smile. ‘I know what you want,’ he said kind of smugly. ‘And I’ll prove it to you.’ He stepped back and said, ‘Show my brothers those nice big tits that I so enjoy slapping around.’
"Did you?" Drake rasped
"Yes . . . honey . . . I did. Can’t say why. I wasn’t drunk at all, completely aware of what I was doing. But at that moment, I wanted to do exactly what Philip ordered me to do. I wanted to obey him. I had on a sundress, all one piece that buttoned down the front. I undid the first few buttons and stopped, and he said, ‘all of them.’ So I unbuttoned the whole thing and stood there with it open. ‘Take it off,’ he ordered. And I slipped it off my shoulders and stood there, shivering a little in my bra, garter belt and stockings and shoes.
One of the fraternity brothers said, ‘Nice pussy, but I still don’t see the tits.’ And Philip gave me this look, I don’t know, it just conveyed a command without any words at all. I unfastened my bra and dropped it on the floor. They all whistled and made crude comments. Philip came around behind me and puts his hands under my tits and held them up as if he were showing off his possessions. Then he forced me to my knees. ‘Gentlemen, I see a lot of very hard dicks in this room, and it’s really this slut’s fault, so she will have to do something to relieve your discomfort. Tonight there will be no jacking off in the privacy of your room. Instead, you will do this cunt the honor of letting her swallow your cum, or you may jerk off on her tits, face, whatever pleases you. I’d let you all fuck her right here and now, but until I grow tired of her pussy and ass, they’re my personal preserve. So step right up.’ And they did."
"You sucked off all of them?"
"All but one or two who couldn’t wait. I think I sucked at least six cocks. And then had to walked naked up to Philip’s room so he could fuck me and he made me beg for it really loudly so as many people as possible could hear it."
Derek took a deep breath. "Good god. I . . . never knew."
"I take it you are disappointed in your wife," I said, tauntingly.
"No! I didn’t say that. I’m just blown away. It’s all so unlike you."
"Unlike who you thought I was," I corrected. "And I’ll just summarize the rest. Basically Philip kept me as his sex toy the rest of the year. Right before his graduation, he planned a special celebration. He bought me a very sexy evening gown with a slit up the side, and enough support in the bodice so that I didn’t have to wear a bra. And that night at midnight, he presented me to the four fraternity officers and his four closest friends as his parting gift to them. He literally unveiled me, fondled me all over while he made his little speech about how much he would miss the fraternity life, and then bent me over the pool table, my legs wide apart and ordered me to reach around and open the lips of my pussy. "Gentlemen, the choice is yours. I’m sure you’ll want to proceed in order of seniority, but there are after all, three orifices available. Please do with this slut as you wish."
I had finished that part of my story, and I sat back and took a long swallow of wine.
Drake just started into space. I’m sure he was imagining the scene, but was embarrassed about just how prurient his interest was.
Finally I said, "Yes, honey. They all did me. The fraternity president was first and he didn’t waste any time shoving his cock into my pussy. And I was dripping wet from Philips handling of me. Fortunately none of them had much self-control, not like Philip, so it didn’t take forever. And they thought up creative positions, and ways to get into all three holes at the same time." I paused. "And if you’re wondering, I came over and over and over again. I was sore the next day, really sore. But extremely satisfied."
"What happened after that?"
Philip took me back to my dorm. I put the dress on over all the cum that had been spurted on me. He parked the car and told me to suck his cock one last time. Then he smiled when he opened the door and helped me out of the car. "That was my present to you, too. Someday you might appreciate it even more." And I never saw him again.
There was long silence. Drake finally said. "But did you ever do that sort of thing again. I mean, was there anyone else like Philip."
I shook my head. "I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. Now I get to see what’s in your paper bag here."

End of Chapter One

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