From: FDDH53D@prodigy.com (Hunter Jackson)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: REPOST: The 4th Ring 2/3 (wife)
Date: 4 Apr 1996 22:54:33 GMT

   THE FOURTH RING - PART 2

   Copyright 1995 Hunter Jackson

   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 bedstand 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 apparant fliuds; she must have cleaned
and dried herself in the shower.  I marveled at the sight.  It was
something I had 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 Anne'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
had 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 had finished up talking about the Berringer deal, there was a
very pregnant pause.  Rick just sat there and stared, a smirk begining 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 stupididty, 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 increduously 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 had just invited Rick to
go after Anne again!  As I continued to 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 had 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
spasming 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 mastabatory 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 tongue 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 unmistakeable, 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 slimey 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 had 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,
slimey, 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 hetereosexuality 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 spasmed 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
climxed 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.  Literaly 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.
   
   Continued in Part 3...  


  
Fourth Ring 2