The Awful Minute

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE]

[Warning: this story contains cuckolding, male humiliation, suicide, sex, violence, golden showers, parody, and any other plot device I could think of. It is the ultimate dark vision and is intended as such. All events are presented with the subtlety of a ball peen hammer. You've been forewarned. Here there be dragons. Not recommended for people under 21.]

*

I was the new coach of a major college football program. I won't name the team or the conference, if any, because you'd be very familiar with it.

I was just settling into the new job. Married for 3 years, I had had the head coaching gig with a lower ranked conference in the NCAA's football universe. There, I fell in love with the senior and head cheerleader. When I met her after our conference championship and asked her what plans she had for after college, she told me she had none. I was amazed. She was amazed too. She was victim to that weird syndrome. Yes, sure, homely girls are not asked out, but there is an odd mirror image to this. When girls are SO beautiful that men feel instantly 'unworthy', no one will ask them out. Everyone assumes she's busy anyway.

So, just because I was bold enough, or foolish enough, to approach Christine, call her Chris, and ask her out, she said yes! After a whirlwind romance, Chris and Ron, the new head coach (i.e. me), were married. Chris was a ravishing beauty (real blonde everywhere, soft features, pouty lips, and a great figure at 5 foot 6, 106 lbs., 35D-22-35, fantastic legs, perpetual tan, well you get the picture .)

When we married, she was but 21, fresh out of school, whereas I was a 'seasoned' 42. It would be nice to say that I had a great body too, but truth be known, I was a bit doughy, with just a hint of middle aged-spread and male pattern...well, you get the picture.

If it sounds like I married 'out of my league', well I just considered it luck or good planning. But, I knew I had a good thing and that it might not last forever. As a result, I might do things like awaken long before Chris. Instead of leaving for the day, I would sit quietly in the chair, admiring the beautiful nymph in my marital bed. Seeing her perfect nose move as she breathed, her soft blonde hair cast about, until she too awakened. She'd always stretch, making the covers fall away and showing her fabulous bust under the gauzy baby doll peignoir. I had to squint to see those nipples, angry at someone, or perhaps excited from some dream. She'd swing those incredible, perfect legs (absolutely uncovered) out of the covers, putting her graceful demure and oh so sexy feet into her little fluffy boudoir slippers. Slipping on a robe, she always was surprised I was watching. I always told her it was just for a few minutes, but sometimes, I would wait up to an hour.

Now for the mistake of my life that led to 'the Awful Minute'. My wife Chris was a sun worshipper. Normally, she would go out on the enclosed patio and do exercises on a mat, after which she'd 'cool down' while also catching some rays. She did this like clockwork at 2:00pm.

I had called an informal meeting of the leaders of the team for my house, at 2:15pm that day. I supposed because the times were not exactly the same, it didn't sink in that there might be a conflict. You see, as I said before, I was no fool. I knew I was out of my league with Chris; there's no way I could match up to a football player and win.

Well, the doorbell rang and in came eight of the burliest players we had. Jeff, the quarterback, Tom, our left tackle, Bull, our tight end, Rick, free safety, Tyrone, defensive end, City Boy, linebacker, Chasen, cornerback, and Tru, fullback.

We don't discriminate in any way, so I hesitate to mention in passing that the first four were white, and the last four were black. They all were wearing tan gym shorts, varsity polo shirts, and Nikes.

We sat down and started the meeting. I told them my plans for 'two a day' drills before we lightened up before the 1st kickoff in 2 weeks. Then, it happened.

The sliding door to the patio slid open; it was covered in curtains, but they were thrown aside to let pass my gorgeous wife. The awful minute occurred; for a full minute, in ashen silence, my wife stared at the players and they stared at her. But, here is what made it REALLY awful! You must first visualize a blonde with a perfect figure in a skintight, wafer thin, white leotard. Her tanned perfect legs were exposed under the high cutout leotard. Barefoot, she stood gaping at the guys, their incredible physiques on display as much as hers. Their all-summer weight room regimen muscles bulging, the sleeves of the polo shirts looking like balloons were half exposed, not simple arm muscles. Their gym shorts had been tight, really packed with outsized units. But now, as they stared at my wife, in the silence of the room, you could hear (hear!) the stretching, rendering, of material, as eight musclebound hunks with oversized love hoses were slowly but surely getting rock hard.

All of this time, during the awful minute, I had been transfixed as much as any of them. All of my concerns were proven correct, though. As I turned a wary eye towards my wife, I was appalled to see that her nipples had softly popped from excitement, with nipple and aureole plainly visible. Looking 'south', sure enough, there was a damp spot that extended half way down her silky thighs and up above her navel. My gorgeous (and once loyal?) wife was sopping wet.

I broke the silence, asking her to come over to me. Relieved that the spell was broken, she wiggled over, unfortunately affording them a rear view. That didn't help, as her pert cheerleader behind was as perfect as the rest of her.

I said, "honey, we could sure use those two liter sodas we bought, about 4 iced teas, and a bucket of ice. Oh, and you might want to change, also." She nodded.

Normally, she would kiss me and say, "I love you" after a request. I mean she always did it, rain or shine. But as a harbinger of the future, she turned, staring at the forest of tall studs, and wiggled off, her plump breasts bouncing enticingly, unfettered by a bra.

After she left, virtually all of the guys shifted or folded their legs. I could imagine why. Not one person joked or said a thing about that 'awful minute' nor did they ever again. But the effects would be everlasting.

Later that night, we had a party to kickoff the season. My home had a pool, a big hot tub, a huge department store made tree house, and a cabana by the pool for changing.

At the party was the same cast of players, all eight football players, 6 of whom brought dates. Also there was the university president and spouse, the alumni association president and friend (don't ask, don't tell?) and 3 party crashers.

We had an open bar and this school was ranked 7th one year as a 'party school'. Watching them go thru Millers, Jack Daniels, Goldschmidt's, Amaretto, and lord knows what else, I could believe it. What I couldn't believe is that one of the party crashers had snuck in some 'weed', the unique smell unmistakable. When the school prez was offered a 'toke', he didn't Bogart it, or even take a puff. However, he did not call the cops or even complain. Why? Everything is for the alumni and their deep pocket...football is the biggest contribution engine, followed by basketball and the sciences. So, if our players secretly smoked or worshipped Satan, that would be okay, as long as they kept winning.

Now to the 'other' awful minute, this one being worse. Water is a medium that can be a catalyst, leading to a chemical reaction...or with people, a physical reaction. As a married male, you never ever admit it...but you know! If you are in the hot tub in the altogether with your wife and another man is 'more man' than you, then the laws of nature take over from the laws of matrimony.

With cold drinks in hand, the four people in the hot tub motioned for my wife and I to come over. I wanted NO part of that, but Chris insisted, actually getting mad. I followed her, thinking I could at least stop something before it got out of hand.

We sunk into the murky dark waters. My wife briefly displayed her nipple popping breasts and her welcoming forest of blond soft hair over her treasured mound. I slid into the tub with an embarrassing mini-cannonball, my soft gut just above a boyish cock which, in the outdoor tub, would only get smaller. Sure enough, some smart alec made waves, the low tide showing my microscopic tool and boyish pea-sized nuts due to the water.

In that tub, to my horror, were Jeff, Tru, City, and the college president! My wife was joking with the players already, splashing them playfully. When Jeff reached low and pushed a wall of water against her, she said in sexy little girl voice, "Oh, that man made me wet." All of the guests laughed at that, but then nightmare.

As the players watched with smiles, nods, and even one rooting him on, the team captain took the initiative and came to my wife. She looked at me and then him, comparing us perhaps. Then in a display that still sends shivers down my spine, he grabbed his now huge babymaker, perhaps eleven inches, and rubbed it against the slavering horny labia of my turned on wife. Instead of slapping him, asking me to help, or running out, she just closed her eyes and moaned in passion. The other men, including me, were mesmerized, again the laws of nature superseding normal laws of behavior. Jeff's hips tensed and he drove his huge fucktool, inch by inch, deep inside my gorgeous wife. The agonizing slowness of his assault drove in the message to all that he was claiming new territory as his own.

I had to do something, I mean; this was my house for heaven's sake. I came out of my hot tub seat and put my hands on his shoulder, trying to dislodge him. My wife said nothing, and nor did Jeff. However, when I started to impotently flail at him, he lifted me up by my neck. To impress Chris as to his physical superiority over me, he lowered and lifted me a few times with his one arm (that was about 195 lbs.) while still being deep inside Chris. Next, on his last uplift of me, he swung around and tossed me out of the tub and into the adjoining pool to everyone's derisive laugh, including my wife's.

Her sole reaction to my humiliation was to motion him to make a muscle of that fabulous right arm that performed that incredible feat of strength. Squeezing his huge bicep, she cooed that he was so strong, so much more man than her husband. Jeff said, "You're married to that sissy boy wimp?"

She said,"Well, for now at least. I married him for money. It wasn't worth it, though, all the love I missed out on." She grabbed the quarterback by his ears, bringing him hard against her. The other players laughed among themselves, while the campus president marveled at the love machine in action. He knew that when Jeff's orange sized bull testes shuddered, shuddered, shuddered, he was coming inside that outmatched wimp's wife. After the fuck, I came over only to see them passionately kissing. As he pulled out, a big air bubble came to the surface as the incredible suction of their union was broken.

Chris asked him if she was going to see him again.

He joked of course, he was the starting quarterback.

She said, "No, I meant just you and me, maybe in the hot tub, maybe in my bed." His player friends laughed, the campus president was quietly whacking off, and I was thunderstruck. As I watched impotently, Jeff helped my gorgeous wife out of the hot tub within inches of me and led her, in her birthday suit, up to that sturdy tree house.

As all the guests could and did watch, our party was treated to some of the most passionate sounds of lovemaking ever heard outside the adult film industry. That tree house literally shook, with leaves cascading down everywhere. When they emerged, my wife dripping not one but two thick steamers of white thick sperm-laden semen down both her smooth tanned thighs, the entire party applauded, laughing derisively at yours truly.

To my horror, my wife announced that some people weren't watching or couldn't see them well, so they wanted to do a quick version for those people. As I watched this melodrama develop, sure enough, they did it one last time that night. This time, as sort of a demonstration of the new reality, Jeff stood within a foot of the hottub where I was trying to hide. My lithe, supersexy wife Chris dutifully jumped into his arms; he lifted her up and lowered her onto his still huge erection. She sighed in pleasure and the crowd had the cruelty to applaud the hook-up. I watched in goggle-eyed amazement as they fucked up a storm. Chris threw back her head and screamed out in orgasm, and her stud holding her did the same, grunting like a bull while her cunt starting leaking out excess white froth. They had fucked bareback right in front of me, but what was worse was the humiliation and their impassioned kiss as they parted. His still hard cock was ejected by her tight pussy, as if the high pressure in her tight tunnel forced it out.

Jeff grabbed his clothes, saying he had to get home--he was married after all (!) After he left, I was hoping that all would be forgotten like a bad dream.

To my amazement, Chris turned to me in the watery darkness, telling me that she WAS going to see him again. She said, "Whether you are there, whacking it like your campus president, or not, I will see him again. And we will fuck, bareback. I didn't tell him, because he's married and I didn't want to scare him off. But he came in me bareback, and today started my peak fertility 72 hours. I've kept secret from even my sister the reason we are childless, but no more. By tomorrow, every faculty wife will have heard that you shoot blanks." She turned to the campus president, who was unashamedly stoned, and whipping it nonstop, as well as the other players. They had heard my most intimate and private secret.

She said, "Any man here who thinks he's more man than my pathetic, loser husband, shivering in fear over there, then he's welcome to place a stake on my fertile pussy. It's kind of a lottery; if I get pregnant, I will give birth. But the name, age, even race, of the father will be unknowable until the actual delivery. Now, whether it's a strong black baby, or a robust white one, I don't care. I just wouldn't want to blight the earth with a sickly, weak, and pale, runt like one of his. Who's first?"

Tru came forward. Chris stopped him in his tracks under the moon light; she said, "Show all of us, including my mini-dickie husband why YOU merit access to my fertile playground." Right on cue, like a proud male peacock displaying himself, Tru flexed his 22 inch guns, then presented his erect ten inch black cock as you would a fine valuable gun. Chris cooed that he was as studly as Jeff, AND not married. She pulled him to her on the tub side, pushed him away far enough to let an almost foot long cock twist its way inside her. If you ever saw a lion doing it, well this was the same. As the two other players high fived each other and the campus president finished with his own little dickie, Tru did a number on my beautiful, once loyal, wife. He then pushed her hard against the tub, groaned as she groaned in simultaneous orgasm. All of the guests heard it and laughed at me as yet another stud laid claim to my wife's fertile vagina. I could just imagine the mini race riot going on even now in Chris' secret place, as the white and black seed fought it out over who had the honor of fertilizing her precious ovum.

At the end of the night, every male guest had come inside her, or dp'd her backdoor, come on her tits, or something. All but one female guest also did her in some way. The campus president was the sole holdout among the men, preferring instead to sit at the patio table in the dark and yank himself off.

To my relief the party finally broke up. Then, people leaving (or getting ready to) were told by City Boy (who had missed out up to this point) to watch and see if he wasn't the studliest, and worth the wait. He grabbed me and put me gently on the wet pool deck. He summoned Chris to come to him. He picked her up and put her flat on top of me. The campus president, now fully dressed, ran to that same patio table in the dark, and reached for something frantically. The other departing guests watched in wonderment. He proceeded to energetically service my gorgeous, well-fucked, wife, with each of his powerful strokes having the same effect on me as a solid right cross. At the end, when he and my wife noisily came together (something she and I never did), all of the remaining guests applauded the performance, and then turned and left.

Sitting up, but still between her powerful smooth thighs, City was high fived by Tru. They had a running spoof of rappers, and Tru said, "it took me half the night to come up with this pathetic lyric, but: City Boy fucked her for all she's worth, now City Boy expects her to give birth."

The door slammed shut, and with a moan, Chris literally rolled off me, fucked out finally after carnally knowing every single guest except for the campus president.

She sat in a lounger chaise in the darkness. She said, "This chaise is worth more than you right now, honey, so could you come over here and help your wife out." I staggered to my feet and walked over to her. She said, "You can imagine that there will be changes around here. I was going to tell you that I was divorcing you except for two things: Jeff told me he was married, and the campus president told me that it would be worth my while to stay with you. I asked him why, and he said that these parties, this whole mystique of an open marriage, a cuckolding perhaps, would be a tremendous recruiting tool. He said that if I was willing to do the high school prospect star athletes bare back, with the pill or not, he would appreciate it and retain your services as coach or in some other capacity. I for my part would get a stipend from the alumni, perhaps as much as $200,000 per year. I said I don't believe it, but he told me in one football crazy conference down south, the alumni openly pay the million dollar salary of the coach, with the NCAA's blessing."

Okay, flash-cut up to today.

I was fired as coach after the 2nd game; it seems the players had a hard time getting inspired by a coach whose very appearance put them into stitches. I was retained with a $10,000 per year stipend as 'advanced scout'. Of the rest of my former $240,000 salary, every penny of it was diverted to my gorgeous wife, paid into her separate bank account under her maiden name. Her position? No, not missionary (though that was one of the ones used), her position was entitled: chairperson of player morale.

Basically, she would meet and greet prospects and, as long as they were 18 or above and 'clean', she'd 'welcome' them to campus like no one else could.

How the mighty had fallen. From sitting in the morning, awaiting my love goddess to awaken and adorn my happy household, I now had to select vampy clothes for the 'chairperson of player morale'. I did that in what had become her bedroom, as I slept in the eight by eight guest room. I had to knock and get permission now to enter her room. If her bra or panties were hanging on the door knob, I knew enough not to disturb my gorgeous, insatiable wife. When I actually did manage to see her, I had to hope she was in a good mood.

She had now taken to working out with the players during off hours, and she had just added weights to her workout regimen. She was no Schwarzenegger but her 16 inch guns could sure get her message across when she gave me an occasional fist into the groin. Her favorite activity with me now was to grab me by my ears in my impotence and hold me powerless against her as she relieved herself into my open mouth. Regardless of the amount, I had to swallow every drop and, without pause, thank her for the offering.