Randy's Slutty Trailertrash Wife

Preface: Before I start this chapter, I just want to mention it's been six months since I submitted my last story.

There's two reasons for that. First is I gave birth to a baby boy last September and that kept me busy.

Second is I did some soul-searching and didn't like what I saw about myself. The marriage years leading up to my first gangbang, I felt I could blame my behavior on my husband, on how he pressured me. But what I became after that, I can't blame on nobody but me. I done some things with men and women that is just plain evil and it don't square with the image of myself I wanted. Looking back further, I come to realize that even years before, I was dishonest with myself somewhat about the kind of woman I am. Well, it is what it is.

Moving on, I start this next chapter four months after my first gangbang.

It was a Saturday morning in late November 2005 and I'm 30 years and four months old. It's the last four months I skipped because that was just a series of wicked weekends with wicked men and me willingly letting them abuse me in the privacy of my home.

But on this day I was with the church youth group at a car wash, helping with a fundraiser. I had not been involved with the church youth before I started fucking Randy's friends, but after that first gangbang I felt a need to spend more time in church.

This may seem strange and illogical behavior, but my guilt over my immoral sexual behavior grew as my domestic life got wilder and nastier.

I felt a need to balance out my karma by being more involved in church activities, kind of like Catholic girls that figure they can run around all Saturday night, then wash their faces in the morning, go to confession and say a few Hail Marys.

It wasn't just enough to get the kids to church Sunday mornings. No, now I was getting to church for Sunday evening service and sometimes even the Wednesday bible studies. I was more prayerful, too.

There was a lot of "Please help me Lord beat this sexual addiction. You know I don't want to, but I can't help myself. I love that wicked life. The flesh is weak! Oh God, have mercy on me."

Sigh -- me and my mixed up head.

The youth director took to noticing I was being more active. Actually, five weeks after that first gangbang he came up to me after a Sunday evening service and asked if I'd be interested in being his assistant with the youth program. He could use some help corraling them antsy teens, as they had a tendency to wander off during structured activities.

This required some time commitment. They met every Friday evening for rehearsals for their music activities in the Sunday program. And they spent Saturday mornings together on various activities such as cleaning around the church property, visiting with other church youth groups and fundraisers.

I thought: "Thank you Lord for showing favor on me. I'm usefull for something besides whoring."

But that secret life I was living was roaring along. My Saturday nights, and even some Fridays were wicked affairs of drunken debauchery. I was getting sandwiched so much by double and triple cock action I was thinking of changing my middle name to mayonaisse.

Listening to the youth minister ask me for spiritually uplifting favors came fresh on the heels of a Saturday night not 24 hours old where Randy had three Mexicans, ''distant relatives of Chuey's'' he said, over to cock slap me.

They was heavy breathers all, sitting me on the sofa, I was riding atop one and sucking off the other two, turning my head right and left to swallow brown bazookas while the beaner I was riding chewed my bid ole' nipples til they was red and stinging.

They chatted some vulgar Spanish at me the whole time. I didn't hardly understand a word of it but I could tell they was thrilled to be having such a nasty time with a 'guera putona,' that's a big-time whoring, blonde-haired white woman.

Well, don't they have a way with words!

I still dressed modestly in public - in fact, I dressed even more modestly than before. I'd become obsessive about my public appearance of modesty because more men knew what I really was and I got a lotta of lewd looks and rude comments at the diner where I waitressed the lunch crowd still, and around the trailer park where my activities where most obvious; the Saturday night gangbangs could get noisy and anyone passing by could see there was a lot of happy, low-life looking men going in and out my domicile.

Randy went to a lot of trouble to respect my wishes for discretion, though. He didn't want to lose a good thing after all the trouble he'd gone to, to turn his wife into a 'pass-around slut.' That was one of the easy references his friends had for me.

The men he brought around couldn't have any association with the social circles I hung around in. They couldn't be close to my family or my church world.

This usually involved inviting men from neighboring small towns, and that involved using his business contacts in the mechanics and drag racing circles. What I didn't know in the early months was that it also involved using Roland-the-Pimp's "business" contacts. Randy was bringing colored men to me that had paid Roland fuck a white trash MILF slut and Randy was passing them off as his own contacts!

But I figured that out two months into this activity when one of those black ballers came by during a weekday unannounced - knocked on my door on a Tuesday morning at 10 a.m. just as I was getting ready to head over to the diner! He offered me $50 for a blowjob and we got to talking and I realized Roland and Randy had been making income off of me and not telling! The bastards.

Well, I ain't stupid. I took his money, took his black ass in the bedroom and licked and sucked balls and cock for 20 minutes until he shot his jizz all over my face. We both left happy and I started making Randy give me a cut of the Roland connections.

I underestimated how many men would be fucking me. I had this idea in my head in the early days that it would never be more than maybe 10 men. I figured that becauase there was only about 10 men Randy was that close to.

But surprise! Men have their own lives to live. They have wives and fiances and girlfriends. They have people that they don't want knowing they're doing this kind of thing. So Randy's buddies were only occasional sex partners of mine.

And it wasn't always easy, I also learned, to organize a gangbang.

I was surprised to find out (I don't know why, I should have figures this out quick, it's common sense) that some men are too shy or modest or morally upright to participate in a gangbang. They don't want to perform in that way with other men looking.

What with all these constant changes in the lineup, the number of different men that got the privilege of being intimate with Mrs. Teresa the church-going slut grew to 21 in the first four months!

Now, to my shame, I learned by some of the rejections we received that some men just don't fuck a "nasty skank that would fuck just anybody." I also learned to my hypocritical moral standards that some racist fucks won't put their extra precious special white cocks where a black man's been. I say hypocritical moral standard because look at me: a slut going to church!

Oh, I clung tight to my old life. I so wanted my friends and family to continue to think good things of me.

I desperately didn't want to disappoint them. But you can't always have it both ways. And that I was to learn soon enough.

Edmond, that was the youth director, was younger than me by a few years. He was 28, had been married nine years to JoAnne and she was 27 and they had a 6-year-old girl. From what I could tell, Edmond and his seriously overweight wife were lukewarm to each other in the sexual department. It was my guess all he got out of her was the missionary position, and then not very often.

I knew from her own lips that she disapproved of oral sex and I couldn't imagine her letting him give it to her up the ass.

Now me being a slut, of course, I thought about these things when I was around him.

I was older than her, but easily better looking. So the idea of me spending extra time with Edmond soon appealed to my dark side. After a few weeks of working with him, I could see he liked to eye my ass and tits when he thought I wasn't looking, and even sometimes when he knew I was looking.

I did not wear revealing clothing in his presence, but I had my ways with my eyes and body language, of letting him know I enjoyed the looks he threw my way.

By the time I had got myself to that November car wash fundraiser I had been shaking me ass and tits in his face for near to two months. I was teasing him, discretely, but teasing him. I wanted to see how long it would take him to break down and make a pass at me.

I smiled at him long and often, gave him approving looks when his eyes wandered down to my chest, and when I got up and walked around at some youth activity, once the children were out of sight, I'd show my backside to him and bend over and rub my ass - the dress might be loose-fitting but the hands helped him see the sweet, lusty curve of my 44 hips and the inviting great divide of my ass cheeks.

At the car wash, I was in a loose-fitting pair of yellow shorts and a XX-large green t-shirt with printed letters across my 40D chest that said: 'Honk for Jesus.' But on this day, I left the panties and bra at home and, wouldn't you know it, I had an 'accident' with the water and got my chest wet.

The boys and girls in the youth group were wide-eyed at the sight of my soaked-hugging t-shirt and the shapely 40D tits - nipples and all popping out even more. There were immodest laughs at the provocative sight of me in a wet t-shirt, but my jugs stopped traffic and we made a killing.

Edmond was red-face for a while. And he struggled with trying to hide a boner. I flaunted my body in front of him like I never had before. The teens were whispering to each other at the obvious flirtations I made toward their spiritual mentor.

I even got in front of him once, bent over and stroked my ass crack against his hard boner. He was terrified we'd be seen and begged me to stop in a hysterical whisper. He was also terrified, I suspect, of cumming right then and there.

I had arranged for him to be my ride to the car wash. That was a tense ride for him, all horny to start the day and me telling him on the way to the car wash that I believed he wanted to have sex with me and that if that were so, "I'm willing and it will be our secret. I won't cause you no problems with your Mrs."

He squirmed! Didn't say anything, just turned beet red.

Well, naturally, he was my ride back to my trailer and I had arranged that no one would be home when we got there. On the way back, I took command. I was in cheerful spirits and feeling devilish. He protested weakly, but did nothing physically to dissuade me when on the way home I lay my hand on his hard cock. I unzipped his pants and gave him a gentle handjob while he drove us to my bed.

I kept gentle pressure on his cock so as not to force him to cum too soon.

We got to my driveway, Edmond's cumload still boiling in his ballsack. I smiled at him and said, "You can cum inside now."

He shook his head, his hands shaking, "No, Terry. I think I should leave."

I let go of his cockhead, confident of my power over him. "Suit yourself," I said, lettin him think he was off the hook.

Then I pulled up my damp t-shirt right there in the car in my driveway and showed him my big bare white titties, "but I'd rather feel your hard cock slidin' in between my buttered up titties, Eddie. Thing is, hun. The butter is in the kitchen."

He was gasping for air and turning red in the face again. Poor thing. I almost felt sorry for him.

But the obsession I had was an evil one, a strong one. I hated going to church knowing I was the most unworthy, most immoral, cheapest piece of trash in that congregation. I had a terrible need in me to bring this good man down, and to seduce him into wallowing in the same kind of filth I lived in.

I wanted to corrupt him, body and soul. I even had visions of him someday participating in gangbang sex with me and those whoremongers he thought he was so much better than.

I sensed he was helpless, consumed by his desire to taste forbidden fruit.

A demon grew inside me and I spoke with a powerful and sure gutteral voice: "Open your door Edmond. Get your legs moving up to my porch. You are going to FUCK me!"

He fumbled for the door handle. He seemed half in a trance, half in terror. He knew he was doing an terrible thing, breaking his marital vows with a common slut posing as a pious churchwoman. But he couldn't help himself. I grinned with glowing satisfaction as I watched him exit his car and march out with his weak knees and sweaty palms, hands shaking and heart pounding right up to my doorstep. I got out of the car as he watched me from my door.

I walked with a skanky sway, strutting my full-figured body shamelessly, smiling at him, my eyes bearing down on him. He stared back, transfixed, his pants zipper only half-closed, a leaking cock, rock hard, throbbing inside.

I reached him and took his hand, opened the door and led him in behind me. Once inside, I pulled off my top and embraced him with nothing on but my shorts.

We had our first kiss, lips open and tongues hungry to wrestle. His cock throbbed against my abdomen and he moaned as we sucked each others tongue.

I broke the kiss and smiled at him. I turned and showed him my back, my wicked tattoo. It was his first look at my tattoo. He didn't know I had one. He was instantly in shock, and no wonder.

I had it put on only three weeks earlier and the colors of the ink were still vivid. It was a hoof-legged red devil, legs straddled wide and hoofs planted at my kidneys. A donkey-sized cock hung across the lower third of my spine and dripped cum drops on the dimpled triangle Y at the top of my big white ass.

The horned devil smiled, his face between my shoulder blades. The whoremongers that fucked me loved taking me from behind, doggy-style, to watch the devil dance as their thrusting cocks shoved in and out of me, shaking my backside, my whole body in a slutty ass-slapping fuck frenzy.

"Oh god," Edmond said in a hoarse voice. "You, you're a she-wolf come to corrupt the flock. You, you're the devil's child!"

I purred a husky, "Rrrr, oooo yesssss!" I pressed my ass into his crotch, pinning Edmond the church youth director in all his fading holiness slipping toward the unholy, pressed him against the inside panel of the front door. "Yess, Eddie. I'm here to make you love whores!"

I was bent over, shaking my ass gently, seductively against his crotch. He moaned: "Noooo, have mercy. Oh, I shouldn't be here."

I stood up straight, spun on the ball of one foot and stared him down. "You wanna leave? Leave!"

He shut his eyes, and put a hand on the doorknob. He squeezed the knob but wouldn't turn it. He didn't have the willpower. I chuckled and slowly knelt before him.

"You're stuck-up wife ever suck your cock, Eddie?" I said while unzipping his pants. I jerked them down hard to his knees, grabbed that cock that poked out of his briefs and tapped his sticky pisshole against my outstretched tongue. "I thought not!"

I commenced to sucking him slowly, my eyes locked on his eyes. He was staring back, grimacing, probably thinking I was a filthy whore, which of course was just the thought I wanted going through his confused, stressed-out holy-rollin' head.

His prick was of a modest size. Fully hardened, it was barely 7 inches. But I was satisfied. I had his cock in my mouth and he would soon explode.

I didn't want him to cum too soon, so after a few tongue and lip strokes, I bit into the head to numb it.

Then I sucked some more, bit, then sucked some more, bit and so on, prolonging his delicious, wicked agony.

After a few more minutes of this, he was sweating and shaking. I stopped. He needed a break.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen, looked over my shoulder, and reached down and undid my shorts. I let them fall to the floor. I stood there naked before him. I felt like a majestic she-demon in my bare 5-foot, 7-inch 175-lb frame with my 40-36-44 curves bewitching this simple clean-living man.

I turned around to show him my round white ass, turned again to face him and put two fingers to my clit and rubbed, closed my eyes and moaned.

"You gonna put your sweet, consecrated cock in a whore's pussy now, Eddie," I said.

He just stood there, unable to protest. He didn't want to, but he did want to. I was the woman of his deepest, darkest fantasies, the one he wanted and the one he should NEVER seek. But now I was offering myself up to him unconditionally and in secrecy. His inhibitions were chained to some back room in his fucked up brain.

I hooked my finger beside my lips and waved at him to come to me. He gulped, pullled off his pants and briefs and walked like a dumb animal to the slaughter.

Once beside me, I took his hand and led him past the kitchen to the bedroom. The room was a mess but the bed looked clean and inviting.

I sat sideways on the bed, spread my legs, hooked his thighs with my feet and pulled his crotch to my pussy. He moaned and lips trembled. I grabbed his hard throbbing cock and slipped it into my moist hole.

"You know how to do this part, don't ya, church boy?"

He grimaced, angry at me for seducing him, pressed his hips forward and started a jerky little thrust-fucking motion. I felt his cock make sufficient progress.

"Yess, baby, yesss. Fuck Teresa. Oh, I'm such a nasty whore, aren't I," I said.

"Yesss, you are," he responded, his hips building momentum.

He found a primitive confidence, felt his sexual frustration unleashed. He began to enjoy it, despite his fear and trembling.

"Fucking whore," he grunted, pounding his cock deeper.

"Yesss, baby, I'm a fucking whore and I want your sweet white cock. Pump that prick up my nasty wet pussy! MMM, daddy minister! Fuck me like the whore I am!"

He thrust on, fucking with anger and a fierce pent-up sexual tension. He cursed his wife's name, blamed her coldness for his being so weak, called me a goddamm whore and I brushed away all blame.

"Yess, baby, it's her fault, it's my fault for being a shameless slut. I know baby. You didn't do anything wrong. Oh baby fuck me. Yeah, that's it. Oooo, that feels good, mmm yesss, yesss, oh yesssssssss!"

He pumped his cock in faster. I knew he was very close, surprised he had not cum already. I must've done a good job priming his cock with my sucking.

"Whore! I .. I knew you were a whore the first time I saw you, goddamm you," he cursed, still pumping into me, sweating, his eyes tearing up; he was hating himself for this, but I loved every second of his sexual torment.

He reminded me of myself about six months earlier, before my life went completely to the whoremongering Dogs. I thought, "Rookie."

I tried to avoid squeezing his cock with my pussy. He was too excited and I knew that would make him cum quicker.

He was going to cum soon, anyway. I just smiled up and him and rubbed my clit while he did the squishy pump-slide up my fuck hole.

When he came, it was a quick, short weak-ass series of pumping squirts. He was in tears, moaning like a baby, "What have I done?" he whined. "YOU! You damned slut! Demon woman!"

He spent himself inside me, then collapsed on the bed and sobbed.

I felt no sympathy. No urge to console him. I rubbed his sticky cock in my hand and licked off the cum while I watched him push his face into the warm sheets, listening to him moan, "Nooo."

Poor little angel had fallen. But this angel was my new toy. I was going to fuck with him, but good!