Author: Milkman56
Title: Candaulism Part V
Summary: My wife confesses; the other time she sucked off cock.
Keywords: FMMMMM+, wife, reluc, humil, exhib, cuckold.

Candaulism Part V

I expected my wife to be very upset after the whole ordeal.  I expected her to have regrets.  But when I woke her late the next day, sitting beside her to stir her on the bed because she had slept until well into the afternoon yet showed no signs of waking, she smiled at me.  She had slept in complete exhaustion, fallen onto the bed, naked, just as she had been left by them, a crease across her back from laying on a crumpled sheet. A smear of ejaculation had dried on a cheek.  Whose ejaculate was it?  The last one in her mouth?  Or the one before him? Or perhaps both—that would be Gary and Howie.  Or for that matter it could have been some of them out in fairway.  Because I could see they were taking her in the mouth and from behind at the same time.  Tag-teaming.  Double-fucking her.  Down in the grass under the moonlight.  I was not so far away, lying on the hill above them, that I could not plainly see the penetrations and hear the sounds of it.

She rolled over and sighed trying to draw up the sheet but it was entangled in her legs; she could not bring it to cover her sex; she gave up, putting her forearm across her eyes and asked me sleepily what time it was.  I told her how she had slept for almost twelve hours.  I asked her how she felt.  She did not reply but asked me how I was.  I was okay, I told her.  Her eyes still covered by her arm, I could not sense her feelings.  I asked her if she was okay.  She nodded without a word. I looked down at her naked body, and imagined the ooze of many men's sperm she had between her legs.  I wanted to touch her there but dared not. 

I asked her if she was hungry.  She nodded.  "What would you like to eat?" I asked and I could not help recalling her eating cum.  And she, taking her arm off her eyes, and looking at me, must have caught the thought in my mind and looked away.  It would be a day like this.  Whatever I said, however I looked at her would remind the both of us of the night before—and what she had done and what they had done to her and how I watched it all; both of us obsessively recalled the events and our parts—her obvious willingness and responsiveness, despite the shame and humiliation she felt, and my obvious perverse pleasure in seeing her used sexually by several men repeatedly and often abusively.

I brought her breakfast in bed. Poached eggs on toast.  A carafe of orange juice.  My queen. Served by her cuckold.  She had straightened the sheets while I was preparing it and had brought the covers up to her chin.  When she sat up, the covers fell to her lap.  Her nipples looked swollen and chafed.  I imagined all those hands pulling on them, all those mouths sucking on them.  She ate with great appetite. She drank two glasses of orange juice thirstily.  I thought of the glasses of water with which she drank down their cum.

Without thinking, I asked:  "What did it taste like?"  She knew what I meant without explanation.

Sleep still on her puffy eyes, she looked at me idly, picking up a wedge of toast, poking it into runny egg-yolk.  She said: "Don't you know?"  She smiled dabbing the goo on the point of the toast, lifting the dripping stuff to her mouth.  She made a point of running her tongue around it and I said: "No."

She shrugged, eating the toast: "It's okay...." 

"Do you like it?" I asked. "Do you like it when they cum in your mouth?"

She dipped the toast into more of the egg yolk.  She did not look at me.  She shyly smiled, remembering.

"They like to cum in my mouth."

Yes, yes, I thought. But what about you. Submissive to them. Taking the stuff in your mouth while they laugh at you, finger you. I asked her again: "Do you like it?"

She did not reply but glanced at me. She had the same look on her face like she did when they did it to her--flushed, mixing shame with desire: I got a hard-on thinking of it.  She blushed and ate in silence.  I got up to get her coffee.  I am sure she noticed my erection as I walked away.  She must know what I was thinking. I felt ashamed. But then she should be ashamed too. Had I forced her? She had been obviously willing. She had wanted to do it. 

She had finished her eggs and had drawn the sheet above her breasts when I came back.  I handed her a mug of coffee.  She takes sugar and cream in it.  She likes it almost milky.  She sipped it with two hands.  "It is hot today," I told her, "I turned on the air conditioning and shut up the house."

I sat on the bed and watched her sipping her coffee.  She looked out the window at the sky absently.  I looked out the window where she did.   "You weren't too hot last night...." She laughed at this.  I realized how silly the remark was and laughed too.

"Excuse me...." I was sitting on the edge of the bed and she wanted to get up.  I stood, looking at her naked body as she got up, thinking of how my friends had seen her naked. She went to the bathroom.  After the toilet flushed, I heard her turn on the shower.

I bussed the dishes downstairs and washed them and watched football on TV while she showered and dressed. 

She looked refreshed and happy when she came down. In shorts and a sweatshirt.  She sat next to me, cuddling, tucked her legs up on the sofa, pulling her sweatshirt over her knees.  I put my arm around her; she dropped her head on my shoulder.   It was almost 4 in the afternoon. 

I had been thinking about it almost since I learned it.  I wanted to ask but was not sure how to bring it up.  I kissed the top of her head.  "Before Steve...." I began, ".... and Larry, who else was there?"

She did not look up.  I took her hand.  She said matter-of-factly: "Jon."

"When? What happened?" I should not have been surprised, but I could not fathom it.  She did not like him.

I did not have to say anything more to persuade her to tell me, although she had clearly not wanted to tell me before; she had always let me believe that there had never been another except for the incident with Steve and Larry.  She had not wanted to tell me for some reason.  She must be ashamed of it, I guessed.  But now she told it simply and emotionlessly.  Like she had watched it on TV.

It had been in our old apartment.  Barely six months after we had married. When she was 18.  I did not know anything about it.  I had not guessed anything.  But after she told me I could see how it had changed her.  She had become depressed.  She gained weight.  I had thought it was because she was unhappy.  I did not know why.  I had thought the fault was mine; and then again, feeling angry at her, resenting her moodiness, I felt there was something wrong with her.  I regretted having married her and I think she recognized my resentment, and felt the blame, and that made her even more unhappy.  As I think of it, this was the start of the whole thing, leading to her "mistake" with Steve and Larry and stimulating my compulsive fantasies based on my suspicions—as it turns out—my justified suspicions.  Jon had started the whole thing. Or, then again, my wife had brought it on herself.  How much it was coercion and how much it was her abject submission, I leave to the reader to decide.  Karen was gullible and na•ve but she was not really innocent.

As I have said, my friends had been early predators of my wife.  Some, like Gary, had even dated her before we married.  I guess that even then she had a reputation for being na•ve and submissive, although none of them had seen her naked or gotten more than a hand into her bra before I had claimed her and soon married her.  But, as I have said, being the only girl that they knew who had "done it," she was always attractive.  And, although as a married woman she should have been morally off limits, she was fair game; they had known her as young girl; they had seen her grow into a woman and saw her awkward awareness of her sexuality and she was obviously flattered by their sexual interest in her.  Her married status did not put her out of reach but made her all the more attractive and susceptible in their eyes.  After all if she must be used to letting a man see herself be seen naked, she easily must let him finger her, fuck her and more—things they did not dare to want, but now seeing her could not stop thinking about—especially, cock-sucking.  They asked me to describe her naked. I was more explicit and indecent than I should have been.  They asked about whether I had got her to suck my cock.  She had not, but I said yes, and told them it was her own idea—she really wanted it and she did it often and she liked it doing it.  I liked seeing their intense gaze on my wife when she came into the room after such discussions.  Their imagination would become my imagination, and I could fill in vivid details they could not with my visualizations.

Jon had dated her a little himself but she had never liked him.  She had tolerated him as a guest because she thought he was my friend.  In fact, I didn't like him either.  He came with Gary usually, and Gary was truly more her friend more than mine. 

Like all the others, he tried his hand at feeling her up on the sofa.  He often was the first to sit next to her.  She knew this about him but did not avoid him. More than once, I think he got his fingers under the back of her bra, maybe unhooked it, or slipped his hand about to the front and up under the cup to the prize.  Or maybe a hand got down the front of her jeans and into her underpants. I saw her fixing herself several times—re-snapping her jeans, pulling her bra down.  They were always trying to get her drunk. She was not used to drinking.  They got her drunk several times.  She was easy to get drunk.  And even when she was not drunk, she was unresisting, only mildly belatedly refused.  It was a sort of game they played with each other. They thought her flirtatious and vexingly seductive.  She thought herself... well, I am not sure what she thought of herself, except that she thought they would get tired of trying after failing so often and that they would grow out of it.  She knew what her attraction was for them, but she never let them do much; on the other hand, she never said no firmly and sometimes let them do more than they should until I looked over at them, seeing her embarrassed (but shyly smiling with a glance at the one) and he in phony nonchalance surreptitiously removing a roving hand from her sweatshirt.  Of course, I was always there, so little really ever could happen. 

It happened one time that they got her drunk and I was not there. I recalled the day once she started to tell me. It was a Saturday afternoon.  Jon and a few of his buddies from softball, I think it was, had came over.  Karen did not know the other three.  I did not know them either and but I had met them. Dropping in to see me, he said.  He brought wine and some brandy.  I was not there.  I was working as a fry cook at a bar down near the University.  I had thought I would be home by suppertime, but it turned out I had to work a double shift and would not be home until after midnight.  I am sure Jon knew this because he had come to the bar and had seen me and I must have told him, I think.  He introduced me to his friends, I am sure, but I don't remember their names.  I remember their faces. 

Karen couldn't remember their names either but she remembered their faces and more.  When she let him in the door, she told Jon that I would not be home for a few hours.  Jon said they'd wait for me.  In the meantime they started drinking without me.  Jon personally tended to Karen's drinks, which he made strong.  She remembered his being very attentive and friendly.  She confessed that it had started because she let him kiss her, she sat on the sofa beside him watching TV and he and she necked.  She knew the others watched them.  She did not try to stop him.  He put his hand under her sweatshirt.  After a bit, she knew that one of the others, sitting on the other side of her, had his hand up her shirt too.  Jon unfastened her bra.

She said that it all happened very fast and that she did not know how to stop him.  She never knew how to stop any of them for that matter.  She depended upon them being discouraged by my presence.  But of course I was not there.

She felt hands on her breasts from different guys, and Jon now nuzzling her neck left her mouth for yet another guy who grossly frenched her.  She yielded to them partly because of drunkenness, partly out of uncertain feelings.  Jon had told her more than once how he loved her.  She did not want to hurt his feelings, even though she did not like him and was not sure he was sincere.  She felt Jon unsnap her jeans.  She felt his hand slip inside her underpants.

Together Jon and two guys in tandem pulled her sweatshirt up over her head, and Jon drew her bra onto her lap and put his mouth on her nipple.  Another fella leaned and kissing her still felt her other breast.  Her eyes shut, she did not see the third and fourth boys, now kneeling in front of her, but felt their hands on the front of her jeans, tugging on them to pull them down.  They tugged them to mid-thigh.  She felt fingers on the front of her underpants, fingertips drawing down the tops of them, exposing her, and Jon's fingers and now the others too feeling the shape of her pussy, slipping into her slit, while the other kissed her passionately.   Another mouth sucked on her other nipple.

She said that they had drawn her underpants down to her thighs before she protested and pushed them away; they had laughed at her and stood up, looking down at her.  She said she told Jon that I was going to come home, but Jon said he didn't care and she tried to pull her underpants back up, and then her jeans (but they grabbed her hands then to stop her).  She fought them; she covered her breasts with her hands and said: "Please...."—meaning, "No, don't do this...."

But Jon said they weren't going to leave  "... until you do what we want." 

She asked: "What do you want?"  Jon laughed and another watched and two others worked together, standing up in front of her, one on either leg, and tugged her jeans off, pulling her half off of the sofa as they did, and so then having fallen to the floor, with her head against the sofa, they leaned over her, holding up her legs, and one reached to her waist and pulled up on her underpants, pulling them up and off her uplifted legs.  Now they had her naked except for her socks.  They stripped those off too, laughing.

The two guys each holding a leg, held her legs wide spread to see her cunt gape, Jon and the other guy between them looking down at it with them.  All of them grinning and leering like horny cats.  Karen said she felt surprised and humiliated but unsure what to do.  She did not mind them seeing her naked. She admitted it was exciting to be stripped forcibly. But she said she worried that I might come home and find her like this.  She said weekly to Jon some complaint, something like "What if John comes home?"  But he told her that he had seen me at the bar and that I had told him I was going to be working late.  "So we got lots of time—not to worry." 

The two holding her legs caressed her thighs; they both put several fingers into the slit exposed to them, rubbing and feeling her cunt lips and hole, slippery and ready.  She admitted she did not fight them.  Jon and to the other one leaned over her and added their fingers to molest her, finger fucking her; they laughed at her astonished expression and obvious sexual response.  They could feel her ready to fuck them.

She did not know what to expect or whether to cooperate or resist.  She said she felt mostly helpless and confused.  Like she did not believe this could be happening.  She was twisted about and handled like a doll, felt up, tits fondled.  Jon had taken down his pants and exposed himself.  It was only the second penis she had ever seen.  It was larger than mine. 

The two standing before her had twisted her and lifted her and forced her off the sofa and onto her hands and knees, leaning over; she felt hands on her dangling tits and hands on her buttock and inside her; a finger poked an inch in her anus.

They pushed the coffee table away from the sofa to give them room and had forced her to her knees, legs splayed. One of them held her arms behind her, drawn back, so her tits thrust, offered for the others to play with.  

Like Jon said, she had gained a lot of weight since he had seen her naked that first time.  Chubby now, she was lean and seemingly more girlish then.  Her breasts were smaller, less heft and less fleshy, firm as apples, and they found they could take them whole into their mouths.  But her nipples were florid and wide, just like they are now.  With her arms behind her, her tits thrusting like that, they were pointy with sexual excitement.  And looked down at fingers that playfully plucked at them, laughing at their rubbery jiggling.  Another took hold of them and pulled on them, to draw them out.

 Her face was lifted by Jon to his and he kissed her.  Then Jon stood up and said: "Your husband says you like to suck cock."

She said she was shocked that I had said that.  She thought that maybe the whole thing was something I had set up, that I wanted her to do this.  In fact she had never had a penis full in her mouth; she had kissed mine, while feeling it, she had licked at hole of it once to taste the tasteless pre-cum, but idea of taking up whole head of it or more into her mouth, and "sucking" on it as they say?  Sucking it?   So that he would cum in her mouth? She had never considered this.  She had heard of it.  She had wondered about it. But it seemed so dirty.

She tried to object but Jon kept kissing her and then holding her head forced her to put her mouth on his penis, mashing her lips with it, forcing her to open her mouth, pushed past her teeth, and so she yielded and took his erection into her mouth.  It was salty, large, meaty. Like she imagined.  But so warm and strangely stiff.  He wanted to push it in as deeply as he could, to the back of her mouth and more. It was the first time that she had done this.  She admitted it was instinctively natural to let him do it. 

Jon grabbed her hair to hold her head and move it on his cock.  She closed her eyes.  Another hand frigged her hard. Jon was pumping his penis in her mouth.  She knew that he meant to ejaculate in her mouth.  She did not resist.  She let him do it.  She felt the stuff flood from the knobby head of his penis, spilling from the slit like a warm drink, thick like hot chocolate but tasteless at first.  She swallowed his ejaculation naturally and without objection or opposition.  She did not taste it until after she had swallowed it.  She did not complain; when he let her lift her head and he looked down snidely at her flushed face, humiliated but sheepishly smiling; "God damn," he said, looking around at to his friends, astonished and amused, "She really swallowed it."

She said nothing; she felt confused—wasn't that what he wanted? 

The next boy eagerly took the place that Jon had—"Lemme"—and her head turned and drawn down to another penis, smaller and hot and hard.  About the size of a thumb, his prick barely reached the back of her throat.  He held it in her mouth, humping her face, without withdrawal.  She sucked instinctively and it aroused him to feel the tongue she used, the sound of her murmuring and the soupy sound of face-fucking her.  He could not hold himself; he groaned and came inside her mouth too, almost a minute after he had started pumping his prick in her mouth.  She started and he held her head tightly, by her hair.  She protested with her mouth full but Jon and the other bystander laughed and the boy spending himself her mouth grunted. This one came a lot, as she remembered, squirting strongly into her mouth, squirting repeatedly; the quantity of it, jetting it into her mouth, surprised her. But being so placed in the back of her mouth and her face and mouth mashed up against his belly, it mostly spewed down her throat and she gulped like she was drinking it.  Only when he drew it out a little, to let a last ejaculate spurt onto and coat her tongue did she really taste the stuff, rolling her tongue about in the swill of it, she swallowed this or she tried to; he, laughing at her whimpering and wonder, let go of her head and she fell back on her haunches, gasping, a drool of white slime dangling from her wet lips.

This then was repeated with the third and then the fourth.  None of them fucked her to completion although they took turns entering her doggy style as she bent over the arm of the sofa while another sitting there held her head to suck him off again. Giving her no pause, Jon and at least one other had her suck them off to completion in her mouth a second time before they were finally done with her.  They left her sitting on the floor naked, curled up between the sofa and the coffee table, wasted and worn, while they joked about how she looked and talked about her tits.  Jon brought her another strong drink.  They left her naked even after they dressed and watched TV. She sipped her drink and they pulled her up to sit between them naked on the sofa, watching TV.  Two left.  Jon and the other idly toyed with her tits and fingered her.  She was still naked when they left the apartment.  Jon was the last one to leave. He took advantage of her one more time before he did. Telling her crudely what he wanted, twisting her, rough handling her, he positioned her on her hands and knees, shoved down his pants, while she whimpered and protested. He told her he didn't believe her. He told she liked it. Then, as he had promised, he tried to put his prick in her anus but she resisted and in the end he grabbed her hair, pulling up her head, leaned in to grin at her gasping face and slammed himself up her cunt and spent himself there. He was the only other man to cum in her like that. She felt it intensely. She would remember his forceful strength, the length of him inside her. Afterwards, collapsed on the floor, they embraced and kissed passionately on the floor, she feeling his slippery softening penis, he squeezing her breasts. He smiled smugly when he got off her and pulled up his pants while looking at her sprawled naked; then, from the door he winked and told her he'd come see her again. 

I got home about a half-hour later.

So these were the other three cocks she had sucked—actually it turned out there was one more than she had reported.  I remember the night this happened because when I came home I found the living room a mess, her clothing on the floor, empty and half-empty glasses of booze around, and I found her in bed naked with her socks on.  I wanted to know what had happened but all she said was she felt sick and in fact she got up and threw up in the toilet.

Jon would try again to repeat his conquest of my wife.  That is what he had hoped for with Steve, but she was now wary of him and she candidly told him that she would never do it again.   He did not use coercion or threats.  He tried seduction, but she refused him every thing every time.  Not until the day that I set her up for him and my friends, that is.