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She didn't understand the big deal. He had to help her.
This could have gone into Loving Wives, but it's more than a simple tale of a mistake, and making things right. Elements could have gone into different categories, such as erotic couplings, fetish, romance, group sex, non-consent, incest, etc. So I've chosen Novels and Novellas as a catch all, rather than label each chapter differently. It's fairly long, seven chapters, and all but the last are complete and edited.
This is another one that's been on the 'finish' pile for a while, and has gone through a few iterations to get where it is today. I hope you enjoy it.
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It was a typical Christmas party, really. Most of the same crowd, about a third from the neighborhood, plus friends and co-workers of Tom and Misty. They always put on a nice spread.
We'd moved into the area within the last year, but my wife Wendy and Misty had been friends for a long while. They had worked together at Wendy's first job, until I stole her away to make her mine. This was the fifth holiday party of theirs we'd attended, every year since our wedding.
I was afraid that Wendy might tie one on. She'd had Jeannie, our first, a little less than 4 months earlier, and this was only the second big party we'd attended since then. The last one had been the Thomas' Halloween Party, but she'd been recovering at that point, exhausted and still carrying an extra 15 pounds. She'd been laying off the alcohol, as well, barely 5 weeks after giving birth, still nervous about the effect of booze while breastfeeding.
Mid-November we'd hosted a party of our own, but the barbecue had only included four other couples, and since it was at our house, among close friends, I hadn't worried about Wendy getting a little toasted for the first time in almost a year. She'd earned it. Plus, a tipsy Wendy always meant great loving later.
Tom had a big house. Hell, there wasn't a small one in the gated community we shared. The party was scattered throughout the place, kitchen, family room, living room, media room, dining room, foyer, porch, garage, backyard. I know because I'd just finished the tour looking for my wife. She'd been feeling no pain an hour ago, although it seemed she hadn't been drinking much. The doctor had assured her that having a few drinks while nursing didn't harm the baby, as long as she wasn't drunk while doing it. After he gave her a chart showing her how long it took the alcohol to leave her body, she was happy. She'd been pumping and storing her milk for a few weeks, so she'd have a clear conscience, and wouldn't have to nurse Jeannie for several feedings after the party.
I knew she wasn't planning on holding back, and I wanted to keep an eye on her. She could be a sloppy drunk, and I wanted to find her before she got too obnoxious or boisterous. The alcohol was flowing, the mistletoe was popular, and the flirting was getting a little out of hand.
On the second pass, I found her sitting in a corner, alone, smiling, watching the activities. It was something we liked to do, as the night went on. Find a nice observation point and watch everyone make fools of themselves. The concerns I'd harbored vanished.
She was sitting in a lounge chair, and I perched on the arm of it, leaning down and putting my arm around her. "Having fun?"
"The best. I had to stop drinking, it was hitting me hard."
I leaned closer to whisper to her, and stopped, stunned. Her breath stank. Of cum.
She was watching me, and I saw her get nervous.
"What the fuck, Wendy?" I snapped.
Her look was confused. "What?"
I pressed my face almost to hers. She grinned and pursed her lips for a kiss.
I breathed deep. Shit. No doubt. "Who's cock have you been sucking?" I whispered harshly.
"W...What?" she responded hesitantly. Her face, an open book to me, displayed her guilt.
I stood and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her behind me toward the entrance. I heard laughing, and looked back to see whose ass I'd have to kick later. Four guys stood together, and Tom was grinning like the cat who'd got the cream. Or delivered it, in this case. Son-of-a-bitch.
"Stop, John," she whined, resisting. "You're hurting me!"
I ignored her, pushed her through the door, and slammed it behind me.
She stopped, standing with her arms crossed. Determined. "I'm not going anywhere with you like this."
"Fine. Stay. I'll fill out the divorce papers tomorrow," I told her as I stomped off.
I heard the clack of her heels chasing after me. "What are you talking about? What divorce?"
"You want to stay here and keep sucking their cocks, you're welcome. You know how I feel about cheating. Don't return to my house."
She ran up to me and grabbed my arm. "Stop, John! You're scaring me!"
"You should have thought about that before you got on your knees and took some asshole's prick in your mouth!"
"Tom's not an asshole. He's one of your best friends," she whined.
Fuck. Just like that. "No he's not. He's the back-stabbing fucker you cheated on me with, and the next time I see him I'm going to beat the living shit out of him."
She was tugging on my arm as I kept walking. I was angry and twice her size, I barely noticed the drag. "John, I never cheated on you. You know I would never do that."
"How long did you hold his cum in your mouth, you stupid slut?"
She let go of me, staring as I walked around the car.
Wendy had always been a cum slut. She loved it. The feel, the smell, the texture. I didn't have a problem with that because she was
my
cum slut. She loved to have me come on her, playing with my juices, dipping her finger into it, drawing little designs, sucking her finger saucily. She'd sucked me off hundreds, maybe thousands of times. She loved to sit back with a silly smile on her face, holding it in her mouth, playing with it for an eternity. She never rinsed her mouth afterward.
I'd received more than one call at work, telling me she could still taste me, hours after she'd delivered a morning blow job. Those calls made my day. More than once I'd gone home for lunch to give her another taste.
I loved that look on her face, the satisfied, naughty smile, when my cum was fresh in her mouth. Except when I'd seen it tonight, not even recognizing it at first, until I smelled the evidence on her breath.
I unlocked the door and got in the car.
"I don't have my purse or my coat," she said.
"Go back and get it. I don't care. Get in the car, or go back. Your choice."
She opened the door and dropped into the seat heavily, slamming the door behind her. "Why are you being such an asshole? It was only a blowjob."
"Only a blowjob!" I screamed at her. "Are you really that ignorant! Get out. Just get out." I pushed her harshly.
She struggled, hanging onto the door handle. "I didn't fuck him. I never would. I wouldn't cheat on you. I couldn't."
"Go suck all of them. I really don't care. Be their slut, you cheating bitch."
She was crying softly. "Why do you keep saying you don't care, when you're so angry?"
"I don't care what you do anymore. You destroyed any marriage we had when you threw your wedding vows away." I told her, driving the half-dozen blocks to our home.
"IT WAS ONLY A BLOWJOB!" she shrieked. "You know I sucked dozens of cocks before we were married. That's all it was. A little quickie suck. Kind of a Christmas treat. I didn't cheat. I didn't let them touch me. I never fucked anyone."
"
Before
we were married," I reminded her. "Nameless nobodies I didn't know about before we were committed to each other.
Before
your vows to stay faithful to me. Now you're just another cheating slut."
"I didn't cheat! I keep telling you that. Why won't you believe me? I never lie to you. You know that. I'm not lying now."
"How many?" I asked.
"How many what?" she replied nervously.
