Abigail Day

Abigail and I had been married for two years, enjoying all the benefits of an open marriage and a swinger lifestyle, when she asked me very matter-of-factly during breakfast, "How many cocks can I have in one day?"

I laughed, thinking she was just being her usual brazen self and trying to get me all worked up. "How many cocks can you handle in one day?"

"No, baby," she replied. "I'm serious. How many dicks will you let me play with in one day?

"Let you?" I quipped. "Like I could ever stop you, even if I wanted to!"

Abigail's bottom lip thrust out in a petulant pout. "Fine," she said, turning back to the morning paper and looking sullen. "Never mind."

Sitting there at our dining room table, sulking like a child who's been told she can't have ice cream, my wife looked more desirable to me than she ever had before. She was clad only in the purple lace panties I'd torn off of her the night before, her full 36D breasts hanging bare and heavy against the edge of the table, her bobbed locks disheveled from sleep and the hard fucking that preceded it, her shapely legs crossed in a way that only made the deep shadow where they met at the top even more alluring. She was serious. She wanted to know how many men I would let her fuck in a single 24-hour period.

"Have you forgotten about our weekly dinner parties?" I reminded her. "The ones where you get screwed by all my married friends while their wives sit in the next room, totally oblivious to what's happening?"

Truth be told, I'd always wished our parties—which involved barring the ladies from the kitchen so that, unbeknownst to them, their husbands could excuse themselves to the restroom one at a time, sneak around the back way into the kitchen, and fuck my wife silly—could have a larger contingent of male guests, because I loved seeing my horny little bride take one big dick after another. But the pretense of the gatherings was a couples' night, and the key ingredient of a successful one was knowing that each guy's faithful wife was just a few feet away as he was dumping his load in my girl's twat. So, to that point, we'd stuck with inviting only married pairs.

"No," Abigail said dejectedly, not looking up from the article she was pretending to read.

I went on. "And let's not forget that time you were the stripper at my buddy Ray's bachelor party, and took each guy upstairs to fuck him. What was that? Six guys? Seven?"

"Eight," she replied, unable to fight back a little smile at the pleasant memory. She even shifted a bit in her seat, no doubt getting wet recalling that particularly bawdy evening. The conversation was getting fun now.

"Seriously," I asked, "when was the last time you went a day without getting fucked by at least one other guy besides me?"

She answered defensively, "When I was on my period, just two weeks ago!"

"Yes," I said, "but what happened that week?" I had her, and she knew it immediately.

"Your brother was here." The reply was mumbled, sheepish.

"And what did you do with my brother, each and every single day while he was staying here."

Abigail let out a resigned sigh. "I sucked his dick."

I nodded. "You sucked his dick! Twice a day most days, as I recall. And what about that time when I caught the two of you in the upstairs bathroom, with you bent over the toilet?" Now I was really pouring it on. "Wouldn't you call what he was doing to your ass 'fucking'? In fact, I distinctly recall you saying several times, 'Fuck my asshole, Jake! Fuck it good!' Did I misinterpret those words?"

"I said never mind!" she spat, but it was obvious the recollections of these myriad extramarital trysts were making her horny as hell. Her growing arousal combined with the sense that I was going to deny her what she obviously desperately wanted was killing my lovely, spoiled little slut. It was almost time to let her off the hook.

We sat there in silence for another minute, Abigail's breathing clipped in an exaggerated show of frustration. Then, when I sensed she was about to get up and leave the table in a disappointed snit, I asked with total sincerity, "How many cocks do you want in a day, baby?"

She looked up at me, momentarily uncertain about the subtle shift in my tone, but visibly perking up at the possibility that I might be experiencing a change of heart. "I don't know," she said, obviously afraid to push things too far. "It was just a rhetorical question."

I couldn't help but laugh again. "We both know that isn't true!"

"Well," she said, in a measured tone, "I guess I just wanted to see how many was 'too many'."

"Too many for me," I asked, "or too many for you?"

Again, she got angry. "You're teasing me! Why are you teasing me?"

"Because, my dear," I said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it tenderly, "I want to see how worked up I can get you before we actually start discussing the prospect of putting your question to the test." Her eyes lit up with excitement, and I kept going, sucking on her red-nailed fingers between sentences. "You know I love watching you with other men, and you know I've always felt the more, the merrier. I just wanted to see how serious you really were about the question."

"Very!" she purred, and that look like a hungry tiger about to devour a fallen gazelle came into her crystal blue eyes.

"Alright, then," I said. "What did you have in mind?"

She explained that she'd seen a gangbang video on the internet recently, and it got her really, really excited. Though she'd enjoyed many encounters with multiple men since we'd been together, she'd never had more than two men entering her at any one moment. It just wasn't feasible to have more than two guys in the kitchen during our dinner parties without raising suspicion, nor had it even occurred to anyone at my friend's bachelor shindig to have us all go upstairs with her at the same time. She'd done a half dozen dicks in a single night, but always one or two at a time.

Wondering whether or not she was up to the challenge of pleasing a horde of stiff pricks all at once was getting her really hot down below. I told her I could understand that feeling, as hearing her talk about it was getting me pretty hard. But I challenged her to think bigger.

"I've always wanted to see you gangbanged, baby. But why stop there? Why not plan a whole day where we see just how many big cocks you can coax into your mouth and pussy and ass?"

"A whole day?" she asked, as though she'd requested a day at the county fair and I'd offered a two-week vacation at Disney World instead.

"That's right," I replied. "A whole day where everywhere we go and everything we do is about getting you fucked by as many men as possible. No rules, no limits, and no cock off limits." She was grinning now, beaming, her hips squirming with juicy heat in her seat. "We just keep going until you absolutely can't take one more hard dick... at which point, it's my turn to fuck you as long and hard, and as many times, as I want!"

All she could say to that was a breathless, "When?!?"

We talked about it in depth, Abigail getting more and more excited as we ironed out the details. First, we agreed that it had to be soon, since the anticipation of it would drive her crazy. She kept insisting on doing it before her next period, and though I teased her for a while with the pretense of not rushing into things, I was in total agreement. Then we decided that it shouldn't be on any special occasion, in part because our birthdays and anniversary were all months away, and partly because we didn't want the day to be about anything but Abigail getting banged like an insatiable whore from dawn until dusk. We each threw out suggestions of ways to lure in more men for her enjoyment, with my wife suggesting more than a few names of guys I knew but never knew she wanted to fuck. I offered up more names she either didn't recognize or hadn't considered, and we discussed at length possibilities for getting her skewered on the hard shafts of as many total strangers as possible.

We decided to call it Abigail Day.

By the time the discussion ended, a date was set, a solid plan for carrying out our mission was in place, and Abigail was straddling me and riding my swollen cock right there at the breakfast table. The whole thing was just too much for my poor, filthy little nympho, so no consideration was given to saving herself for all the men she was going savor on her upcoming day of debauchery. We both needed some relief then and there, and so she milked my curved shaft to creamy climax with her gripping cunt muscles while my poached eggs and bacon got cold on the table, and then kept right on bucking on my meat spear until her own body was wracked with wave after blinding wave of white hot, nerve-shattering pleasure.

She collapsed on my lap and we sat there for a long while, catching our breath and thinking of the fun to come. Finally, I said, "We'd better get moving, Abs. I have to get to work, and you have a big day tomorrow to get ready for!"

In just 24 hours, my wife was going to begin a voracious fuck marathon which would make all of her previous wanton adventures combined seem positively chaste by comparison.

To be continued...