Fancy That

I looked down at my wife, lying face down on a strange bed, covered in puddles of cum. My eyes drifted down further, seeing more of the stuff leaking copiously from her gaping wide pussy and her gaping asshole. My stomach churned at the sight. My fists clenched and unclenched with the fury I felt.

That is not a great place to start, I know, but at least now you know what to expect from this sorry tale. Let it serve as a warning to those with a delicate disposition and a stark image a husband should never see.

Let's head back in time by about a week. Yes, that would cover it.

My wife is a stunner. Isn't it funny how everyone has a stunning wife? But let me ask you this....would you have married her if you didn't think she was special? Probably not. But Angie really is stunning. She is tall, slender and just oozes class from every pore. She works out every day, morning exercises, gym three times a week, all to keep a figure that gravity and age should have changed years before.

Angie and I are both in our 40s. I look it, she does not. I always thought we were happily married but I was constantly plagued with suspicions. I work in retail, nothing fancy but my hours are regular. I usually get home long before Angie does and so I make dinner. Yeah, girly man, I know. Angie works in sales for a finance company so she has lots of late appointments, often not coming home until after 9, sometimes later. I didn't like it but you know how it is when you depend on the money. She had developed a habit lately that bothered me. On her later nights, she came in, barely a word, and straight up into the shower. When she came back, clean and fresh, that's when I got my kiss. I am generally not a suspicious man by nature but when my wife looked at least ten years younger than me and was this hot, it's hard not to suspect something.

I asked her about it once. She simply said that after a long day at work, she felt the need for a shower. I didn't question her further. Why make waves, right?

So, on to last week......

Angie and I were sat talking over dinner when she told me the company was having a costume party for Halloween. I groaned inwardly and enthused outwardly. She loves that kind of thing; a chance to dress up, to be "exciting". You can guess how I feel about it. Its for kids!

"I am really looking forward to this," she gushed as the week went on. "I have our costumes all picked out. You are going to love it!"

I asked her what costumes she had chosen but she just smiled. "You will have to wait and see."

"Julie is going to be there too. I hope I can avoid her. "Angie made a face. I searched my dutiful husband memory banks, finally finding a file marked Julie.

"Is she still doing it?" I asked, scoring a point or two there, I hoped.

"All the time!" Angie threw up her hands in exasperation. "It's like I have a mirror or something!"

Julie was a younger woman who worked from the same office. She had really latched on to Angie, trying to be just like her. I think Angie loved it, really, she was flattered but she often complained. I tried to soothe her, of course.

"Darling," I told her more than once. "You are a real professional, a role model. She can see that and is emulating you in the hopes that she may one day be half as wonderful."

That always scored me a few points.

The week went on, Angie getting more and more excited about this stupid party. I tried to join in, I truly did. The night before, I made us a special dinner, all Angie's favorites. I figured we would be eating junk the next night so I really went to town for her. Of course, as I am sure you have guessed, it was a late night for her. All my efforts wasted. I may have even sulked while I ate mine, drank a beer or two and watched TV until she finally came in, a little after ten. As always, I caught a glimpse of her before she ran up the stairs, closely followed by the sound of running water. I warmed her dinner for her.

"Hi, honey," she smiled at me, towelling her wet hair. "Sorry I am so late. The appointment ran way over what I expected. Forgive me?" She kissed me lovingly. I tasted mint.

"Of course I do!" I embraced her. "I made dinner. Its warming up for you now."

"You are an angel" she smiled. She barely touched her meal as we chatted. Naturally, the subject of the party was foremost. I joined in, of course, sharing her enthusiasm in a most sincere way. She seemed to buy it.

The next day, she was practically vibrating with excitement when the costumes arrived. I kept wanting to look in the box but she made me wait. Eventually, it was time. She took her package into the bedroom with her, leaving me to open mine.

"Oh," I said, less than enthusiastically. "Batman. How.....thrilling."

I had a thick rubber or latex or...I don't know what it was. It was thick and heavy, the mask particularly uncomfortable. Mind you, for a man in his 40s, once I put the suit on, I had a fine set of abs. Then Angie appeared. My heart almost stopped. I was expecting Robin or Batgirl, or something. I was not expecting the sight before me.

Angie had dressed as the sexiest Poison Ivy the world has ever seen. She wore long boots, finishing at her thighs, her dark green stocking tops showing just above them. The boots were a dark, olive green in color and they were really highly polished. Above the sexy glimpse of stocking, she wore a dark green bodysuit that clung so tightly to her curves, her breasts pushing against the semi-sheer material, the outline of her nipples all too obvious. I paused a moment or two more than I should have and finally tore my eyes away, following upwards to see this glorious, sexy as hell redhead looking expectantly at me through a dark green mask, covering the top half of her face. I just stared, open mouthed.

"Like it?" she giggled, twirling provocatively for me to see. The bodysuit did little to cover her fine, firm ass. It was so high cut, in fact, that I could clearly see the cute little butterfly tattoo she had on her left cheek. I loved that little butterfly but it was really only me who should be seeing it.

"My God!" I finally exclaimed. "You look....you...wow. Just wow!"

Angie smiled happily. Of course, I felt a twinge of something close to panic. Looking as good as she did, I was not leaving her side for a second. All the men would want this beauty. I didn't say that , of course, but I decided it.

"Don't you think it's," I licked my dry lips. "A bit too...revealing?"

She just laughed and twirled again then skipped over to me. She kissed me full and deep and so very passionately. "I am Poison Ivy" she said, breaking the kiss. "My secret identity is safe behind my mask." She tossed her head, the long red hair flowing over her shoulder. "And isn't this a great wig?" she enthused. "Feels like real hair. Feel it."

I ran my fingers through that long red hair. It really did feel real. The colour was strikingly red, not at all like the dark brown of Angie's natural hair. Perhaps she had a point. Her secret identity was not at all obvious. Still, I decided, she was not getting out of my sight, even for a second. I was snapped out of my thoughts as her arm linked to mine.

"Time to go, my hero. I really hope you enjoy yourself tonight. I hope we can all forget about work and just have a fun time."

Unlikely, I thought. I had been with her to a few such company parties. It was ALL about work ALL night. We drove to the house the party was held at. I say house. Mansion would be a better word. The boss did well for himself, to say the least. All the way there, I could not stop staring at my wife. She was so incredibly sexy. Every time she moved, laughed, stretched, I felt a twinge in my latex or rubber or whatever the hell it was, batsuit. We finally arrived and I opened the car door for her, moaning slightly at the sight of this classy, long legged beauty unfold so gracefully from the seat. God, she was hot.

Upon our entry, she got endless stares, catcalls, cries of admiration...all from the guys. They practically flocked to her, pushing their way in between us. Of course, she loved the attention. After all, that's what the outfit was for.

"Jeez, Angie" said one of the guys, I think his name is Martin or Mark, I lose track. "You look good enough to eat, babe."

So much for the secret identity! Similar comments came from many others. I know I should have been proud of my sexy wife but I was getting more and more nervous and, it seemed to me, more and more forgotten. Then my wife pushed her way through the throng of horny men, linking her arm in mine.

"But this is my Batman," she giggled. "He is my hero. He will stop Poison Ivy being a naughty girl." I puffed my chest out, showing off my fake abs. Some of the guys laughed, clapping me on my back. Some of them glowered at me.

The night went on. Angie and I danced, she laughed, she twirled. She was having a great time. The beer flowed, the wine flowed faster. One of the guys, Mark or Martin or whatever, tapped me on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he grinned slyly. Before I could say a word, Angie was pulled from me into a tight embrace as this cocky little shit started to dance. I watched as he pulled her close, rubbing his body against hers. She smiled at first then her face got more serious as she too began to move against him. She caught my eye once or twice but just grinned and winked. One time she waved at me. She was enjoying this rather unpleasantly close dance. Unpleasant for me, that is. I decided enough was enough and stepped forward but I was thwarted by a white faced vampire who moved far too fast for a supposedly dead guy. He spoke to Mark, yes, it was Mark. He spoke to Mark and Mark reluctantly let go of my wife, passing her to Dracula who immediately pulled her tight. I watched as his hand slid down to cup her ass. I was angry then and was about to step up and punch the guy but Angie beat me to it. She grabbed his hand, pulling it up to her back. She looked crossly at him and he looked suitably chastised. They still danced close but there was no more groping that I could see. I felt slightly safer. Safe enough to head for the bathroom. I said the beer was flowing, right?

I don't know if you have ever been faced with this tactical nightmare. I needed to pee. I REALLY needed to pee. My friend, you have to experience it to understand. Encased in a rubber, latex or whatever batman suit, in a tiny bathroom...the logistics alone had me beat. It took me an age to get out of the thing enough to pee in the toilet. It took me another age to get back into it and leave. All in all, it took me about 15 minutes to take care of business. So much for not letting her out of my sight. I headed back to the dance floor. I couldn't see Angie anywhere. I couldn't see Mark or Dracula either. My heart lurched. I practically ran around that whole mansion, searching for her. I ran outside, through the gardens, disturbing a few would-be lovers, none of whom were Angie. I was close to panic when I heard something that chilled my blood.

"Hey buddy," I heard a caveman shout out to a mummy. "Have you heard? Poison Ivy is taking all comers..or cummers...upstairs!" This made them both laugh but I saw which way the mummy headed. This could not be happening. I followed the bandaged man, up the stairs, down the hall, hearing the obvious sounds of extreme sex. We reached the room it was coming from. The mummy spoke to the guy by the door, dressed as a football player, who stood aside to let him in. I marched up to the door and was instantly blocked.

"Private party pal" the Football; player said to me, pushing me back. "And you are not invited."

I tried to push past him and another guy came over in support. For a moment, there was a gap, enough for me to see. There in the room, sure enough, I saw a glimpse of shiny green boot, a swish of long red hair, the intoxicating glimpse of a stocking top. I pushed the two men aside and saw the full scene.

Poison Ivy was indeed taking all comers. I watched in horror as one guy had his penis buried deep in her pussy, thrusting wildly into her. I looked up. She still wore the mask but another cock was buried deep into her throat and she was sucking on it like there was no tomorrow. The clinging bodysuit had been loosened to give these men better access. As I looked on, I counted at least 8 men in that room and more coming in behind me. I was grabbed and pulled back but not before I saw the man fucking her convulse, obviously cumming hard into her. He pulled out and I groaned again, seeing the patch of dark brown hair, matted already with cum. It was only a glimpse because as soon as the one guy pulled out, another took his place. I shouted, I screamed in rage but a hand closed over my mouth and I was dragged away. I writhed against the grip, almost got free at one point but more hands grabbed me, dragging me away from the scene. I heard muffled cries of pleasure from Poison Ivy, I heard grunts of release from the men inside her. Another stepped up to her mouth, instantly plunging his hard cock where the other had been. I screamed again in rage and was cut off as someone punched me hard in the stomach, doubling me up. I was hauled out of the room, football guy had his face in mine.

"I said private party, pal" he sneered. "You can have her when we are done." The little turd spat in my face then. I looked up again, still held by two others, the wind knocked out of me. I looked up in time to see Dracula, the white faced fucker, stick his cock in the now vacant pussy. I struggled again against the men holding me, only to be punched once more. I am not a pushover but when there are so many and your hands are tied, there is not much you can do. I stopped fighting, choosing instead to consider who my divorce lawyer would be. After what I had seen the dirty slut doing, no way was I staying married to her. It was sad, it was heartbreaking, mostly it was infuriating. I seethed while one after another, they took turns.

Eventually, they started to leave. One by one, they filed out of the doorway, some looking at me, looking very happy with themselves. Eventually, only one man remained in that room. Of course, it was Mark. I realised with horror that his cock was buried to the hilt in her asshole and she was moaning and moaning as he thrust into her. He stopped moving, threw back his head and shouted "YES!" at the top of his voice. He was obviously filling her ass with his seed. I looked away, disgusted.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into a grinning face. Mark's face.

"Sorry about the punch, man," he said. "But there is no way we could let you spoil the fun."

I sagged, seemingly beaten. The hands let go of my arms and I looked up into Mark's grinning face. "Sorry, man" he said again, holding a hand out to me. A handshake? A fucking handshake after fucking her in the ass like that?

I punched the bastard as hard as I could, right in the face. It was a very satisfying moment when I felt his nose crack under my fist. I left him there, holding his fat nose and ran into the room.

Isn't this where we came in? I think so. Anyway...

I looked down at my wife, lying face down on a strange bed, covered in puddles of cum. My eyes drifted down further, seeing more of the stuff leaking copiously from her gaping wide pussy and her gaping asshole. My stomach churned at the sight. My fists clenched and unclenched with the fury I felt. I felt like throwing up, seeing that cute little butterfly on her ass, covered in cum, dripping down over the painted wings. The red hair, long and luxurious had lost its sheen, now matted and darkened with cum. I wanted to kill her there and then. Instead, I left the room. Leave the slut, I thought. She is no use to me.

I stormed down the hallway, passing a cursing Mark. I glared at him, he hurriedly backed away. Wise man, I thought. I stomped down that hallway, pushing people aside. I walked down the stairs. I stormed through the main room, back to the dancefloor. I found my coat, gave a baleful glance around the room, turned to leave....

....And came face to face with my wife, looking radiant, smiling, slightly drunk but totally clean.; Her long wig flowed, her bodysuit intact. Everything just...well...beautiful.

"I lost you!" she pouted. "I have been looking for you for ages. Where did you disappear to?"

Well, now, I am not stupid. Well, ok, I am, but not THAT stupid. There is no way on God's green earth that she could have cleaned up so completely in the few minutes it took me to get here. No way!

It took me a while to answer. I told her about trying to go pee in a batman suit which sent her into fits of happy laughter. She wrapped her arms around me and smiled. "I love you" she said happily. "Had enough?"

I nodded, looking around. Mark had come into the room and I saw him also stop dead in his tracks, staring open mouthed at my wife. He was gathering some attention, his shirt rather covered in blood. I thought getting out of there was a wise move. Without a word, I held Angie's hand, leading her to the door. A few stopped to say goodnight but we made it out of there, managing to avoid the commotion Mark was causing. I practically bundled Angie into our car and drove out of there like a bat....like a batman out of hell.

"Did you see that bitch Julie?" my wife curled up in the seat, eyes half closed. She really had a lot to drink. She gets sleepy when she drinks. I shook my head, no.

"You wouldn't believe it," Angie went on. "I wore this outfit deliberately. I know it was very revealing and a bit over the top but I can handle myself. I even kept it a secret, even from you. But would you believe it? That little bitch turns up tonight in exactly the same outfit! How the hell did she know? Oh and get this!" She sat up, looking very indignant. "Last week she comes running to show me her new tattoo! The little freak got one exactly like mine. It's getting creepy now!"

The penny that had been hovering for so long finally dropped. I did NOT stand over my wife's cum soaked body at all. I stood over Julie's cum soaked body. I felt like an idiot, believing my classy wife would do something like that. Of course she wouldn't. Man, I am so stupid. I laughed. I laughed and laughed, partly relief, partly the absurdity of it all.

"What's so funny?" Angie asked.

So I told her what I saw. I gave her a full account of what Julie did, counting off the number of men I saw filling one hole or the other. I didn't mention that I thought it was Angie, not Julie. I also didn't mention Mark's freshly broken nose. I didn't mention, too, the look of shock on Mark's face when he saw me there with Angie. He clearly thought the same as I did. He thought he was fucking my wife. I wonder how many thought the same thing. That would explain the determination to keep me out of there. When I finished telling her this, she slammed her hand down on the dash, obviously very angry.

"That bitch!" she exclaimed. "She must have watched me with the boys last night. Jesus christ! Does she have to copy EVERYTHING I......do......"

I stared at her, open mouthed. Her hand flew up to her mouth, her eyes wide in shock.

"Oops!" she said quietly.