Cathouse Tuesday

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I can't believe this is a love story. I'm Jenna, a typical Mormon girl that married right out of high school at age eighteen. My husband Porter was thirty one when we married. A pretty big age gap, but it's no secret that Mormon men love their younger wives.

My husband's first and middle names are Porter Rockwell. Once a protector of Joseph Smith the cult founder, Mr. Rockwell became Brighman Young's personal enforcer and assassin. Those that didn't agree with Prophet Young would get a visit from Mr. Rockwell. Sometimes their last visitor.

The exact opposite of that, my husband is loving and understanding ... my protector. Call it bad luck or God's choice after our marriage we were to learn that I would not be able to have children. Many women would crumble at the revelation, but I found it as opportunity. Opportunity to travel and do things with my husband that having children would prevent. Plus, I got to keep a pretty killer body.

Fifteen years later I'm thirty three years old. A typical blue-eyed blond haired Mormon wife. Women my age have kids in high school. I work out every day and have a pair of 38 D-cups that I could cram into C-cups if I wanted my tits spilling out exposing cleavage. My waist is still 24 inches and a round runner's ass that measures 35 inches. So, D-Cup, 38-24-35 ... you'd fuck that ... wouldn't you?

I had never cheated on Porter, but I have been raped twice. Maybe I asked for it, but I didn't think so. Rape is a terrible thing to happen to a woman. I had my own way of dealing with it.

The first time was on a jogging trail. A man jogged around me then was waiting at a picnic table up the path. He had his head down when I jogged by him. I never saw his face. Then a few yards along the trail he caught up to me and pushed me into some bushes.

Now he had a ski mask over his face. All fighting him would do would get me beat up. Now on my back with him over me he pulled up up my shirt and jogging bra and sucked on my nipples. They betrayed me by getting unbelievably hard as he mouthed and kissed them, eventually he kissed my titties all over.

All I could think of was how my husband was at work while his wife about to get fucked on a mountain trail. I didn't struggle when my rapist tried to get my shorts and panties off. I found myself helping him by planting my feet and raising my ass in the air to get my clothes to my ankles. Then, laying back with my ass on dry leaves the man pulled my shorts and panties off my feet. I left my knees a couple of feet apart. If he was going to rape me there was no reason to make it a struggle.

The man stared as my pussy was fully exposed to him. I never expected a rapist to eat me out first. His mouth went right to my pussy slit and he began to lick inside my pussy and up to my clit. I soon had my fingers entwined in his hair to guide him to just the right spots. My husband would eat my pussy as foreplay, but had never made me cum. If this stranger didn't stop in the next few seconds he was going to make me orgasm on his face.

"Oh, my fucking, God." I was there. I was pulling his face so tight into my cunt I wasn't letting him breathe. The whole wave washed over me. I shuddered and shook and found myself saying "fuck, fuck, fuck", over and over again. He had freed himself and was looking down at me.

"I hope you like pussy cum." I groaned.

I don't know what made me say that. He didn't say anything, just lowered his shorts and a jock strap. A glimpse of his cock showed it to be hard with big veins and a slight curve to one side. It looked like it might be bigger than Porter's. Wouldn't that only be fair that if a stranger raped me that his cock would be larger than my husband's? I spread myself wide open and moved a little on my ass to line up with him for the assault from his cock.

The head parted my lips and slid inside me. He was bigger than Porter. For a woman being raped it was hard to justify why that made me happy. He continued to fuck deeper inside me. When our pubic bones met he was a couple inches further in me than I had ever had a cock in me before. Poor Porter!

My knowledge of rapists amounts to zilch. One would think he would violate me, dump his cum, and rush out of there. Instead I got a pretty steady dose of him pumping his shaft inside me. The second time he made me cum with his cock I was focused on my wedding rings, my hand flat on my stomach imagining where his cock was reaching inside me.

Being raped wasn't bad for me. The guy was large and knew what to do with his cock. I would have signed up for the rest of the day. Then he started to grunt and shove into me hard. This brought me to the edge for my third time. I could tell when Porter would cum in me, but this guy I could feel squirt his seed and his cock pulse. I went pretty fucking nuts as I began cumming like I could never remember cumming before.

He held it in me for several minutes. No doubt waiting for the last of his seed to drain towards my cervix. Then he hoarsely spoke for the first time to me.

"Good fuck! Do you have kids?"

"Thanks ... you, too. Uh, no kids."

"Maybe you'll have one of mine."

"Okay ... " I didn't know what else to say.

Then he pulled out. Before getting to his feet he kissed me. I kissed him back.

"Be a good little cunt and don't tell the cops on us."

"Okay! ... "

"Give me a five minute head start."

He was gone! I didn't even get dressed right away. I thought about him making me cum three times, how much cock he had in me, and for Christ's sake he ate me until he made me cum. Porter never ate me until I would cum.

Poor Porter! I couldn't tell him I was raped. It didn't hurt me. Far to the contrary. I had just gotten the fuck of my life! It was an unsettling moment in my life. I didn't tell the cops. I should have married the guy.

I changed my route and when and where I jogged. I thought about the attack every day. Several times every day. Not the bad part. How good that cock felt in me. Porter and I had our regular sex. Usually three times per week. Almost always after something to do with church. Porter got off on watching other guys checking me out at church and then fucking me when he got me home.

The age difference almost made me like his child. He was good to me. Things at his work went well and he made more and more money. On many of his trips I'd accompany him and got to go lots of interesting places. The occasional orgasms with Porter vanished after my rape experience. I was faking it most of the time anyway. Now things had changed to faking it all the time. I tried all kinds of fantasies, even pretending he was my rapist. You can't pretend past a smaller dick. Sex was okay. It wasn't bad. It didn't get me there. He'd cum in me, I'd fake it, and he'd be asleep all proud of himself.

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Five years later we had moved into a more upscale house to match Porter's job status. I loved it and the neighborhood was great. Porter made several new friends quickly. I'm more of a blend in kind of person. When we got invited to a neighbor's party Porter was thrilled and me not so much. I had met some of the other women and wasn't quite as impressed as they seemed phony, with their values based on net income. Maybe with all of their numerous children and the minivans they were jealous of my body being in good shape. The 38 D-Cups were gathering a lot of attention from the husbands.

Porter was well into it with the other guys. A lot of talk of BYU football where Porter attended and him being a big fan had him intensely riveted to the group. Personally I had gotten to the point where I had drank enough punch and lemonade and eaten enough homemade cookies. I sought Porter out to tell him I wanted to leave. We had walked the four blocks to the party. I told Porter I'd be okay walking home by myself.

I could tell I was being followed as soon as I left the party. Footsteps behind me got close. I ignored it thinking maybe it was Porter being silly following me home. In the darkness between two street lights a sudden rush from behind and a hand over my mouth told me I was going to be raped again. It was too dark to tell who it was. Something was over his face anyway. I didn't put up a fight as he pulled me into the shadows between two houses just a half block from home. He had me pinned to the ground.

"Don't scream or put a fight and you won't get hurt."

"I don't want to get hurt. If you'll get off me and let me open my legs I'll make it easy for you."

"Oh, you're a hot little cunt, aren't you?" He hissed.

"If you're going to fuck me anyway why should I get myself injured?"

He stood back from me on his knees. I took off my blouse and Capri pants and starting removing my church garments, my pledge of faithfulness to my husband.

"These garments would have been in your way anyhow."

I laid them under me and took off my bra and panties. Seeing me naked and open for him knocked him off his game. I probably could have kicked myself free. Why bother with that? Let Porter talk to his new friends. The last rape was my fuck of a lifetime. It had been a long time since a man had made me cum.

My big tits stood out proudly from my chest, my nipples already hard. He came back over me and took a nipple into his mouth as his hands worked the flesh of my boobs. I felt him grasping to unfasten his pants. I put up no resistance and after a little effort on his part I felt the end of his cock part the lips of my pussy. If he expected resistance I had a surprise for him. After five years of not getting off with my husband I couldn't keep myself from having a little orgasm when he was only a couple of inches in. It was that easy. Having just part of another man's cock in me made me cum.

Moments later he was pounding his cock into me. There was no doubt the way his cock widened me and went into a very pleasant depth in me that this man was larger than my husband. I was feeling its length inside me trying to guess its size. Six inches .... surely ... no ... certainly seven. I was getting more from getting raped than I did from being married.

The signs were there. The increased speed, the deep jabs. My stranger was about to blast his load in me. He froze and held it rammed in me deep. I felt a spurt of his semen, then another, then two or three more. Suddenly it was me giving the ride, rocking up hard onto his cock grunting and gasping as I was filled with his seed. Jesus I was cumming hard.

I could see his outline, but only darkness. He pulled up his pants, fastened them and hurried off in the direction we had came. It had to be someone from the party. Maybe it could have been a random assault from someone on the street. I was sure it was from the party. He called me a cunt. Only my rapist from years earlier had called me a cunt. Never from my husband or from polite company would I be called a cunt. I liked it. I liked being thought of as a cunt.

I only half dressed to get home. Panties, blouse and Capri pants. I rolled up my bra and Mormon underwear and stayed in the shadows to get to my front door. The guy really gave me a load. Cum had ran through the fabric of my panties. I'd never been so full of cum. I could feel his sperm start to run down both thighs. I hurried in to the laundry room. I was going to throw the clothes in the bottom of the hamper and hide the sticky panties. Then after that a quick shower to clean myself out.

"Fuck it. I'm a woman properly inseminated by a cock larger than what my husband could give me." I rationalized.

My husband would probably talk at the party for another two hours. I was leaning forward with my hands on the washing machine looking down at cum trickling from my fresh fucked pussy. Two fingers cleaned the wetness from my inner lips. I started to wipe it on my soaked underwear. Instead I brought the fingers to my lips. I tasted it. Kind of nutty and bitter. Maybe not all that bad. I'd never tasted my husband's semen. I dipped in again for another taste. Okay, a little better this time.

I went to the kitchen for a soft drink. We kept some sodas in the back of the fridge. Most church members say coffee and soda are forbidden. One of those little evil things my husband and I share. The taste didn't really override the taste of cum from my mouth. I drank a little more soda. I could feel a resupply of my rapist's seed move lower in me and start to form on my outer lips. I finished the soft drink and replenished the cum taste in my mouth by another swipe of my fingers against my leaking cunt.

"Cunt ... " There was that word again. Both strangers called me "Cunt". The word made me happy. I almost danced to the master bath as I called myself "Cunt" through the living room, down the hall and into our bedroom. I should have felt insulted. Instead it was invigorated.

I liked it. "Cunt ... cunt ... cunt ... cunt ... cunt. I'm a cunt ... cunt ... cunt ... cunt." I was singing it by the time I entered the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror. No sign of trauma. There was a grin I just couldn't wipe off my face. I looked myself over. Thirty three and from what I saw I still had it. No Mom marks. No sagging boobs or chubby belly from having babies. No chew marks on my nipples from nursing some teething baby. Nice tight non-childbearing ass.

My pussy glistened with the stranger's cum. I turned my back to the mirror. Looking over my shoulder I bent slightly at the waist to get the exposed angle of my pussy from behind. My pussy was open enough to show that there had been a nice cock in me. The glistening was changing into a nice glob of cum. I turned back to the mirror and dabbed two fingers in what was becoming a little pool just inside my opening.

Instead of the feeling of disgust and the desire for a hot shower I licked the newly leaked cum from my fingers and rolled it around on my tongue. The flavor that I wasn't so sure about earlier had a nice taste to it. Perhaps because it was coming from deeper inside me than husband Porter had ever been able to put his seed. I watched it slide around in my mouth as I curled my tongue. Pushing the cum onto my lips I quickly captured a trickle that had escaped down onto my chin.

I raked fingers through my pussy to gather the nectar that had not yet flowed to the bottom of my opening. Jesus! How much more was there going to be in there? I sucked the new bounty off my fingers. Looking in the mirror I admired how much cum was now in my mouth.

Swishing the cum around in my mouth got it between my teeth, all around my tongue, my cheeks, and the roof of my mouth. I enjoyed the slickness and the flavor. I sat on the toilet to pee. First I would bear down and try to send any remaining cum in me into the palm of my hand. Two fingers went in as deep as I could get them. About a tablespoon full ran out and down my fingers. When it comes out it feels like a quart. I used the flow to double the amount of sperm in my mouth.

After releasing a stream of urine into the toilet I started to draw a hot bath. I rolled the cum around in my mouth as the bath filled. I'm usually a shower type of girl. Tonight was different. My body seemed extra sensitive to to everything. The wash cloth on my nipples hardened them like pink diamonds. I washed the outside of my pussy being careful not to run the cloth into my slit or let water in to rinse me out. I almost swallowed some cum when I giggled with an evil thought. Tonight I would slip my husband some sloppy seconds.

It was eleven thirty when the party wound down and Porter returned. As would be his pattern he wanted to fuck me when he came home. I let him lead the conversation and finally swallowed the rapist's cum when it became unavoidable for me to speak. As soon as I swallowed I felt a sadness to no longer keep it in my mouth.

Porter was talking again ... about the party. I thought about the men I had met there and wondered which one of them had followed me home and fucked me.

"Wow, Jenna. The guys sure went on about you. Telling me how lucky I am to have you rather than they with their wives. It was almost embarrassing ... a couple of times almost unspoken words bordering on crude remarks."

That little tune went back in my head. "Cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt. I am a cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt!"

We went to bed. About the time I was wondering if there was enough left from the stranger for me to play my sloppy seconds trick on my husband I could feel some cum move from very far up inside me. I laid on the bed with my knees up to keep it inside me. My usual reaction would be to lie still and let Porter force himself between my legs and poke his dick in me.

I got a quizzical look from my husband when he found himself staring directly at my slightly open pussy. He quickly was pushing the head of his dick inside me as deep as it would go. I really wanted to fuck him. I knew if I turned wild on him he would know something was up if he hadn't noticed my extra stickiness already. I could feel the stranger's cum moving around in me and onto my husband's penis.

The most I'd usually get from Porter would be a couple of lip kisses. This time he was more persistent and slipped me his tongue. Oh, my God. He had to taste cum. I guess he didn't know what he was tasting for. The little tune in my head started as his tongue worked mine. "Cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt. I am a cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt!"

The kissing and the stranger's cum moving around inside me caught me by surprise. When Porter started to cum I orgasmed right along with him. He never knew I had been faking and didn't know it was the real thing this time. I looked at his face as his penis softened inside me. Five years and he caught me off guard by making me cum.

He fucked me after church the next afternoon. I didn't cum but Porter was proud of himself thinking that he did. The schedule went back to three times per week again. Always after we had been around other people. Every now and then I'd pretend to myself that another stranger had just fucked me and get off from my husband prodding inside me just an inch or so from what I needed him to reach.

Every day I'd remember the two rapist that had worked over my little pussy. Sometimes I'd catch Porter's cum draining from me and put it in my mouth to roll around over my tongue. Not that I would ever let him know that I did or God forbid think about sucking his cock. I did fantasize about cum spurting directly into my mouth and wished I would have let one of the other men flood my mouth with seed.

"Hmmmm ... maybe someday." Not with Porter. Oh, hell no. Not with my own husband. I'd watch men and wondered about how well they could take care of my married pussy. Maybe I'd suck the guy's cock. Again, not with Porter. Maybe I would suck cock and feel that spurt. I wanted it to be when I was being a cunt for some other man. And, I expected him to call me a cunt while I was doing it.

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Then came the life changing moment. No, not the kind where Porter told me that he wanted a divorce or that he knew I had fucked another man. At thirty-three I felt pretty good about myself. Technically I had not cheated on Porter. Three men had fucked me, but technically not cheating. I knew what it was like to take on some strange cock, and oh, how I had enjoyed it.

"Jenna, I'm thinking about changing things up a bit."

That froze me where I was.

"Changing up?"

I don't know why I thought it had to be about sex. Did he mean us being swingers or him watching me fuck another guy? I could do that if that was the way life was headed. No problem.

"We've done pretty well. A large investment account. Nice house. Nice cars." He paused. "Trophy wife."

"Trophy wife?" I grinned.

"Guys are always checking you out. I see the looks."

"What do you want to change up?" I had no idea what was coming.