I have been personally involved with the aftermath of esophageal surgery and the drainage therapy for healing esophageal damage - it remains medically essential that the patient not speak, whisper, swallow, cough or strain this delicate tissue in any way - for patients with 'wandering hands' the restraints described are prescribed - for vaginal damage, as expressed in the story, a similar restraint system can also become medically essential.
Restrained in this way, such a person—subject to unethical behavior in a quasi-medical setting—could easily become pray to sexually abusive men and women, particularly if the 'call-button' has been moved out of reach. In the head-down, buttocks-up position, a voiceless female patient wouldn't be able to call out, prevent such attack or even see her molester.
The 'stent' described in the story is a real surgical tool, designed to force open delicate tissue for healing purposes and can be placed internally or externally.
I have personal experience with wives who decided to have sexual 'flings,' and then excused themselves with justifications, excuses, rationalizing and dry-eyed crying, as described in this tale - masking emotional decisions of immediate desire with pseudo-intellectual ones, in order to appear more innocent when caught or to put blame upon the husband or boyfriend.
The hyper sexual behavior described here (also called nymphomania) is uncommon in women, but not rare - such a woman can engage in multiple sex acts and then, in an instant, revert to more normal behavior and never think of herself as a whore or slut.
BIG COCK ADDICT 01
by TheKeith
As she pulled her car into the garage, out of the weather, she felt sated, with her pussy still throbbing from her last deep-penetrating fuck. In her high-pitched, little-girl voice, she said to herself, "Oh, God, an 11" cock, will I ever have anything like it again?
"OK, my husband's cock is bigger than average, but at 8", he's still 3" shorter than Ricardo's monster."
"I'm 34, I deserve a little fun every now and then. What's a 3-night weekend in comparison to 5 years of marriage?"
She knew she still had her lover's semen in her now well-used vagina.
"Oh, God, all that fucking really rang all my bells and whistles."
The house was dark when she entered and stripped. She just padded through it on bare feet, as she headed straight for the shower, to wash off the traces of her lover's leavings and odor of sex.
She called out for her husband, but got no answer. As the hot water cascaded over her sex-battered body and poured off her still-distended nipples, she thought, "Well, he's probably sulking. Off in a motel somewhere. He'll be home tomorrow Monday, or Tuesday at the latest. I'll call him on my cell."
"He'll come home to me, 'cause he has to. Then I can be all 'sorry, so sorry, honey' and 'It'll never happen again' and I can fuck his brains out for the next 6 weeks. After that he won't even remember that I had my little fling."
"It was just for 3 days and nights, anyway. He's got me the rest of the time. He'll forgive me, he always has, like when I totaled the car or bought all that stuff and maxed out all the credit cards."
She toweled herself dry, and, wrapped in her new bathrobe that her husband Tim gave her, she padded, still barefoot out to the kitchen to get a post-sex, before-bed snack.
Abruptly, she stopped. There was a big manila envelope parked against the glass-enclosed candle in the middle of the dining room table, and a small box beside it, standing open. Inside the box was a simple gold wedding band. "It's Tim's. Oh, God, what has he gone and done? What's in that damn envelope?"
Trembling a little, and dreading what she'd find, she opened the it and out fell several pages of clear computer printing and 3 clear, color printed photographs.
The photos were of her, just stepping out the front door, all but nude, to begin her 'fling' with her big-cock lover, Ricardo Mt. Calm.
She looked like a beautiful porn slut in the photos ... but nothing like a married woman with a loving husband.
The first page started:
- - - - - - -
Dani,
I know that you and Harriet have had woman-to-woman sex with each other. I also know that you and your best-friend Harriet have been planning your 'slutty-fling' for a couple of weeks.
I know that Harriet says that I'm a stupid goof with a tiny dick and a useless wimp of a husband and that, right now, you agree.
I also know about your lover, Ricardo Mt. Calm, as he was Harriet's choice of man to satisfy your sudden sexual hunger for a big cock.
Ricardo Mt. Calm is actually Harry Blevins Scutnik. He was born and raised in Newark, New Jersey. He is a long-time seducer of older women, with a history of finding, using, hurting and then discarding married women.
He is also an ex-con, having served 5 years of a 8-year sentence for attacking and severely beating a married woman in New Jersey.
Currently, Mr. Scutnik is now wanted on a murder charge for beating and killing another woman during a gang-rape, and has a warrant out for his arrest.
Mr. Scutnik is also known to have an untreated STD of syphilis.
Despite what Harriet says, you ought to get back into your car, and flee the area, at least until he is caught and locked up again.
Also, get a full STD panel from your medical clinic.
You were my loving wife of 5 years when, on Thursday night, dressed in the long leather trench-coat I bought, you stepped up to the front door of our home.
But, as you went across the threshold, then turned to face me, YOU BECAME A TOTAL STRANGER—a brazen slut hot-wife and sex-addict, out for fun and excitement, thinking only of yourself.
Please look at the pictures I printed and left for you. As I photographed you with my hi-def phone camera, you opened your coat to reveal that all you had on were CFM stiletto pumps, thigh-high net stockings and, save your long coat, nothing else. With a wicked grin, you posed for me, front, side and, as you turned to dash away, your cute, bare backside.
The last thing I heard, as you got in your car was, "Don't wait up for me. I'll be back Sunday night. It's just a fling ... just some recreational sex ... I deserve a little fun, to spice-up our marriage ... then I'll come home, bang you to death and we can just forget about all of this."
You'd become a sex-addict, too, just like Harriet. You were having your 'mess of pottage' for big-cock sex.
There was nothing I could do about it, short of locking you up in the house as my prisoner, for the rest of your life. You and your BFF Harriet scorned, humiliated and conspired to fuck me me out of your life.
You both succeeded!
I took a sleeping pill and went to bed. That night, I had a vivid dream that I still remember in detail:
In that dream, we were sitting in a restaurant, having a lunch. You wore the fully-lined little black dress—no bra or panties—with the sexy front-zip I bought you last year. You were steadily talking, saying, "I'm so sorry ... it was just one time ... it was only recreational sex ... it'll never happen again ... that I love only you ... blah, blah, blah."
Then a big bad man, muscles on muscles wearing tight jeans and an open shirt, with a gun on one hip, came over to us. He drew his gun, cocked it and put the barrel at my head. With his other hand, he pulled down the front-zip of your black dress and reached inside to squeeze your tits and nipples, saying, "I've got three friends waiting outside in the truck and we all have 10" cocks. Bitch, you've got just one minute to join us, or stay with your tiny-dick husband."
He walked out to the door of the restaurant and looked back at us. I saw your eyes were literally glowing and your breathing was fast and hard. You said, "Oh, Tim, I love you with all my heart, but—four 10" dicks—I want, I want, I want!"
Then you jumped up and tore off your already opened dress. Naked, breasts bouncing, thighs open, you ran across the restaurant to the entrance, where the big bad man grabbed your ass and pulled you, happily squealing, outside. When I followed, with the catcalls of 'wimp' and 'cuckold' ringing in my ears, you'd already gone, leaving only one CFM shoe laying on its side in the driveway.
Then I snapped awake, knowing exactly what I had to do.
Other men have dealt with their openly cheating spouses differently, to take a cold, elaborate revenge, but I choose to do things differently:
(1). I cancelled my name off all of our joint credit cards, leaving your name only, then paid off the outstanding balances.
(2). I took off my name from our joint checking and savings accounts, leaving your name intact. I put a substantial amount into both accounts, sufficient for you to live on for 2-3 years.
(3). Working with Jolene at the bank, I transferred the title and ownership of our cars to your name only, and paid the insurances for this year.
(4). I signed off on the house (not our home, any more), making you its sole owner.
(5). I also paid this year's taxes and pre-paid the next two years taxes as well.
[Contact Jolene if you need more help - she didn't approve of my actions, but did as I asked.]
(6). I also paid this year's health insurance, and left enough to pay for the next two years worth, at current rates.
(7). I also filled out and signed (with your stamp-pad signature) an Application for Dissolution of Marriage, Non-Respondent. I paid the fees in a money order and sent it off in the mail. You will be free of my marriage to you in a year or less.
(8). This letter is a copy. The original and all the critical documents are in our safe and the new combination is the day and month you walked out the door to have your sex affair.
(9). I will be gone when you return to the house. There will be no way for you to contact me. I will not have a fixed location where I can be tracked or found. I have thrown out my old cell-phone and closed all my on-line e-mail accounts.
(10). I can't ever trust you and your impulsive, lying decisions again. I will never return to you as a husband. If, by chance, we meet again, we will be distant acquaintances. You are alone now, as I am unwilling— and unable—to rescue you from your own future stupid decisions.
(11). Here, also, is my ring. Keep, pawn or discard it, I don't care, as it was only a symbol of a wedding and a marriage that doesn't exist any more.
I provided for you in marriage and now, I've provided for you for in divorce.
