Smoothy didn't even wait for the seed on her back to dry before he had flipped her over onto her back. Pushing her legs back towards her tits, and spreading her legs open as wide as they could go, he reached down and pulled open her cunt lips again, exposing not only the pink inner folds, but also the black, bottomless cave within. Then, pinning her legs back in that position, he plunged his cock down into her, to the hilt, straining to get every last millimeter between her red, throbbing cunt lips.

Going at her with force and fury, he took her to the edge of exhaustion and beyond. Sweat covered her forehead, dripping off into her hair. His own sweat spattered her with every thrust, adding itself to the juice freely flowing from her cunt hole. On and on he thrust, his stamina apparently enhanced after having cum in Terry's wet cunt. She watched intently from her chair, openly masturbating, frigging her pussy as if possessed. Punk sat on the floor, spent, while Shy Guy swiveled the camera around, trying to find the most explicit shots. In the Producer's Room, I pounded at myself until dizzy, feeling my balls beginning to tighten as my body prepared to rid itself of some more protein.

Tears streamed down Melissa's face, her body on the edge between intense pain and pleasure. Seeing this, Smoothy grinned and pounded at her harder, enjoying not only the power of his cock, but also the power from her vulnerability. In his face I saw all the emotions I'd held against her since finding out about her infidelity. The emotional charge sent me over the edge; I came violently, the cum squirting out as though shot from a water cannon. With it went all my distrust and frustration and hurt and vengefulness. I felt drained. Calm. And loving again.

Melissa's ordeal wasn't quite over, yet. For another minute Smoothy pounded into my wife, her pussy now open so wide, and his cock now so wet, it seemed they would never create enough friction to bring him off. But after one particularly hard thrust, he released her legs, pulled his cock out, and crawled up her body, until his cock was poised over her face like a pistol. In alarm, she closed her eyes, just before the first shot hit her full in the face, the cum hitting the bridge of her nose, before streaming into her eyes, over her cheeks, and across her lips. He aimed another shot right at her lips, and on impact it seemed as though cum was foaming out of her mouth. Cruelly, his final shots were aimed into her golden hair, the sticky whiteness snarling it.

I watched as my wife then coated her face with his cum, applying it everywhere as if it were a face cream. Smoothy even had her cover her ears with it, and the underside of her chin, before instructing her to lick his cock and balls clean. Then, giving her cunt a paternalistic pat, he finally climbed off her. She lay there, sweat-soaked, cum-covered, used and abused, before weakly climbing to her feet and demanding the blackmail materials. It was then I decided that I would be home late that evening, to give her time to clean up.

They all watched with hidden smiles as she took the pictures, and the negatives, dropped them into a wastebasket and set them on fire. When nothing was left but ashes and balls of burnt plastic, she turned to them and ordered vehemently, "That's it! That's all! Get dressed and get the fuck out of my studio. If I ever see any of you again, I'll rip your fuckin' faces off!"

With a confident smile, Smoothy marched into the control room and gathered up all the tapes, including the one I hadn't been able to erase.

"I don't think that's it, Liss," he declared. "In fact, I think it's just the beginning. We're changin' the rules. We got about twenty tapes here. Now we want a night just like this one for every one of these tapes. Or we go public with these!"

"You asshole. You really think I'd let you tape all this shit? You think I'm stupid? First, I switched the line cables on the deck. All you got is twenty tapes full of snow. Check it out, ditwads."

They waited while Shy Guy rushed to the booth to run the tape. Sure enough, nothing but snow. And I'd taken all those chances trying to de-gauss those tapes!

"Second of all, and I hope you're all hearing this perfectly, I'm gonna go to the cops and tell them you drugged me and raped me. That's right! Drugged and raped. Knowing you scumwads, you probably kept some pictures to yourself. Fine! Anyone sees those, you're going to jail. My word against yours. And who's going to believe your story? Who's going to believe I let you do that to me? No one, that's who! So that's drugging, rape, sexual abuse, probably kidnapping, and I'm sure a few other charges I haven't thought of. You're all eighteen. That's a lot of jail time. So don't let any word of this get out."

She looked at their shocked faces while gathering up her clothes. "Now get the fuck outta here. I got a husband to get home to!"

And, cliche though it may be, that's about when I decided to work at our marriage a little more. To make it a little more interesting. Not that I could top the sexual excitement of the last few weeks. Or maybe I could. At least it'd be fun trying.