Wife Wored in a Massage Parlor

Two weeks before our wedding, Mandy became distant and anxious, and stopped having sex with me. During the night, she'd wake up and pace around the house, and sometimes talk on the phone in Chinese, which I assumed was her parents in Hong Kong. I figured it was the typical pre-wedding agonies – money, family, wedding details. Then, eight days before the wedding, I came home and she was seated at the dining table. She had a hard look in her eyes.

"I have to tell you something," she announced. For a second, I was afraid she was calling the wedding off. All I could think was that I'd never find a woman like her.

"Sit down," she asked. Then, "I don't know how to tell you this but just to blurt it out. So I'll just say it. To pay my way through graduate school, I used to work in a massage parlor."

I was speechless.

"I understand if you'll want to call the wedding off," she offered.

The next hour was one of the strangest of my life. Here was my delicate 85 pound princess, from a good family, a biology researcher at the local University hospital, a woman who'd always said she'd only had two boyfriends before me – and it turned out she'd sucked and stroked hundreds or thousands of cocks. Cocks of every size and type and color. I felt betrayed. I felt waves of intense anger at her exploitation. But the whole time, I had an unstoppable hard-on under the table.

It turned out one of the new professors at the hospital recognized her, two weeks before. A former customer, he had threatened to reveal her – threatened to send me and her father an email with the truth – unless she serviced him again.

"So, did you?" I asked.

"No, no – I'm telling you the truth now," Mandy insisted.

"I don't think you are."

"Okay, okay – I gave him a few blowjobs in his office last week. I thought it would stop. Then this week, there was more." He was insisting Mandy meet him at a hotel two nights before our wedding, or her truth would come out.

"What was 'more'? What did he have you do this week?"

"He is a bad nasty man."

Now my mind was racing. I was picturing things.

Mandy saw the look in my eyes. "Okay, okay," she said. "He likes me to wear old underwear with strong pussy smell. He likes to lick me while putting fingers in my ass."

That word, fingers – the plural of it. I'd only ever put one finger in her bung, never dared two, let alone my cock, which I always assumed was way too big to fit. But I desperately wanted to know how many fingers had been in Mandy's ass, but I didn't have the courage to ask. So instead, feigning anger, I asked him if she came when he licked her.

"Of course," she said. "He won't finish til he sees me come."

Now I somehow was angry. "You didn't think of faking it?"

"Even if it's wrong it feels good. You know how easy I come."

"Did this happen today?"

Now she started to cry. "It happened twice today."

"Twice today, he stuck three fingers in your ass and licked you til you came?"

"Yes," she meekly, shamefully cried.

I'd never even put three fingers in her pussy.

"Do you even really love me?" I asked.

"I love you. I love you. Please, don't leave me."

That night, I tried to sleep on the pull-out couch. I didn't know what to do. I felt enormous stress. I was pretty sure I was going to have to break this off. When I'm stressed, I like to jerk off or have Mandy stroke me off. Now I knew why she was so good at it. As I lay there with my eyes closed, I kept picturing my little Mandy, her hands stroking cocks, and some man – some professor – slipping fingers into her ass. First one, then two, finally three, as Mandy gushed on his face. And then I started to wonder if he used lube, to get his fingers in. I went to the bathroom and found some old lube in a drawer, which I'd hid behind a humidifier. I lubed my cock up good, then put it away, and headed back for the couch bed to take the stress off. I climbed under the covers, and then realized Mandy had climbed into the bed to wait for me. She began kissing my shoulder, then my neck, and then her hand found my cock.

"It's so big," she whispered. She kept stroking it. Then, she cooed, "I am loose, from today. It will maybe fit."

Was she saying what I thought she was saying?

Her hand, covered now in lube, left me for a moment. It was dark, but I thought she was reaching around to her little butt. "Okay," she whispered, with her back to me on my left. She reached behind her, grabbed me, and pulled the head up to her asshole, pushing past the thong underwear she was wearing. She let out a long groan. "That's so good," she said. Then she backed herself onto the head, and cooed as I went in. "Oh my god you're so big," she groaned. In my mind, I kept picturing three fingers where my cock was. I felt her little titties stick up, hard as my cock. Then she raised her right leg. "Feel how wet my pussy is." I touched her. She was a dripping sponge. "Stick your fingers in me," she asked. I went for it, with three at once. They went right in, and she immediately came, then rolled on her back. My cock head slipped out of her ass.

She slipped a pillow under her butt to lift it up. This time, in missionary position, I hammered Mandy's asshole. She cried and screamed softly and came again, then told me she wanted my cum in her ass, and I shot away.

After awhile, laying there, Mandy asked, "Why have you never asked me for anal before?"

"I didn't know you liked it."

"I can't just do it anytime. I have to get loose. I used to do it only on Thursdays."

"What do you mean?"

"I used to have a rule. Five blowjobs, customer got pussy. Or ten blowjobs, you got ass. But only on Thursdays. Then, I would schedule them by size. A couple little ones the first hour. Later, bigger ones, black men, like that."

"So you've had many men fuck your ass on the same day?"

"I needed a week to recover, whether it was one man or five."

Immediately, my cock was hard again. And I had one thought – the professor wanted to meet Mandy two nights before our wedding. Our wedding was Saturday. He wanted to meet her on Thursday. He was going to fuck her ass.