I went to bed with a huge hard-on, compliments of Marilyn's note concerning what she and her husband still had in store for Candice. My nympho wife would be getting a chance to see how much her holes could stretch with her belly chock full of water from the two enema bags she'd taken. The idea of Candice being double penetrated by the pair was a real turn-on for me. I had to also admit that I was getting a yen for Marilyn that certainly wasn't anything but plain, old, one hundred percent lust for her trim body and dominant personality. They also were quite interested in how my blonde bombshell behaved when she had a mouthful of fresh piss direct from the tap so to speak. Mark and Marilyn had a side bet that she'd not be able to gargle that mouthful for more than ten seconds without spilling some or swallowing it before she was given permission to chug it down.
To say I was groggy when the alarm went off was an understatement. Nonetheless I jumped from my empty bed and hit the shower, my way of preparing for what lay ahead. As the cold water renewed my contact with the outside world, I began to focus on what probably occurred between my faithless wife and the Connors. The more I thought about last night the angrier I got. They had taken advantage of me big time and Candice had gone along with it lock, stock and barrel, whatever that meant. The fact that she still hadn't arrived home from her session with the next door neighbors started to eat away at me. I decided that my presence would not be conducive for a meeting of the minds as to the subject of my wayward wife and her new found friends.
For reasons that I did not understand, my reaction to my wife's latest escapade seemed to have an influence on the way that the ladies in my office responded to me. There was this brunette around thirty with a chest that almost matched what my wife was packing, but a face that would scare children, who took the initiative and invited, or actually propositioned me, to join her for lunch or an aperitif at her place after work. I turned down lunch, but by midday had accepted her second offer. The drink before dinner turned into a romp in the lady's bed, and she had plenty to offer when it came to tasty pussy and a tight twat that hadn't been used for quite some time. All I had to do was close my eyes and think it was Marilyn Connor beneath me, thrusting her hairy cunt up to meet my downward moves.
I headed home feeling a lot better about myself. If Candice had an itch that always needed scratching, that was her problem. The more I thought about things, the more reasonable it became to adopt her way of life and sort of take whatever came along. However in her case she was no shrinking violet, she'd grab anything that had a cock and promised to show her a good time in the sack. To her there was no such thing as cheating, she probably didn't think of me as a cuckold either. So by her logic, how could I be a philanderer? By the time I hit the door to our place, I was in the mood for some serious makeup sex. Unfortunately it takes two for makeup sex, and the house was empty.
Nosing around I discovered that Candice must have returned at some time during my absence, but when and for how long were impossible to tell. I took a deep breath and called the Connor residence, getting their answering machine. I left a message and started to fret about her whereabouts. Had she returned for another session with my neighbors? Was she in some motel making up for lost time with one or more of the guys she was screwing at work? Had she made a new conquest at her job, one who was unmarried and happy to accommodate her needs at his place? Had she been kidnapped by aliens? I stewed for another hour and to calm myself down, went over the pictures that Marilyn had e-mailed to me last night. That did nothing for my situation except make me hornier for my nympho wife. So, Candice was now heavy into girl-girl, water sports and who knows what else she'd learned playing with the Connors. The first couples gangbang had obviously just whetted her taste for her own kind, and now the Connors were giving her an ocean to drink.
It was well past eleven when Marilyn Connor called. She and Mark had been out to see some friends and had no idea where my wife was. Mrs. Connor stuck a fork in me by observing that my bride was rather forward when it came to men, but she and her husband had enjoyed their little tete-a-tete with her and were looking for another opportunity to further her education. It didn't help that she kept referring to Candice as that trollop, your home wrecking wife, the alley cat or her favorite, that trampy slut of a whore you married. I was furious after listening to her observations about my trampy slut of a whore wife. I hadn't eaten since noon, so I raided the fridge and made do with some leftover takeout that was a few days old, but edible. Afterward I polished off a double Jack Daniels and went to bed.
When my wife got back is anyone's guess, but I was too tired to even roll over whenever she crawled into bed. All I knew was when I responded to the insistent alarm that shouldn't have been going off except I forgot today was Saturday, there was my faithless wife soundly sleeping like some innocent. I restrained my urge to begin choking her and instead rolled out of bed and went through my routine in preparing for another day at the salt mines. The blonde bombshell was still out of it when I settled down for breakfast; just as well since the last thing I wanted or needed before I ate was a confrontation with her on the subject of where she was and with whom.
