A Wife a Slut an Addict

Introduction

The story you are about to read is exactly as it was related to me by Shannon. The only modifications made were for grammatical purposes and, in a few cases, to resolve some internal inconsistencies. The names were changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty). She claimed every word was true, but I have no evidence other than her statements. You will have to decide for yourself. The introductory paragraph following this one is the only part that was actually written by Shannon. I wrote the rest of the story from a number of sessions with her and a tape recorder.

Hi. I'm Shannon. I'm a recovering slut. I'm recovering in the same sense that an alcoholic that hasn't had a drink in two years is recovering. He's still an alcoholic, but he no longer drinks. My therapist says that it is the same for me, and always will be. Just as an alcoholic is still one, despite the fact that he hasn't had a drink in 20 years, I will always be a slut, even if I never again give in to those desires. Maybe my story can serve as a warning to all those potential sluts out there, but that's not why it exists. I worked with Rick to write this as part of my therapy. My therapist says that writing it all out in detail will help accelerate my recovery. I don't know if that's true, but telling the whole thing did feel, I don't know exactly, like I could breath again. In any case, good or bad, here it is.

Chapter II - A Bitch is Born

I was in a daze for most of the next week. It was all I could do to pull it together when my husband was home. Fortunately, he was near a deadline for a big project and had to work late every night, so I didn't see much of him. We made love twice during the week, and it was fine, but nowhere near the volcanic experience that I had survived with Joe. My "good wife" kept telling me not to compare them, but I couldn't help it. I think it's true that a man's ability is more important than his equipment, but I also think that the old boxing theory is true too, that a good big man will beat a good little man every time. It wasn't just that Joe was so large, it was also how he handled himself that made the experience so mind boggling. The combination of his size, strength, stamina, and knowledge was unbeatable. So sorry guys, while it's true that size all by itself isn't the end all and be all, it's also true that size DOES matter. The "good wife" kept trying to convince me that it didn't but the slut knew better.

That battle went on all week, all the time I was alone. The "good wife" kept trying to convince me that it was just once, and if I didn't do anything else it would be all right. I could put it behind me, go back to my pleasant existence with my husband, and forget it ever happened. But the slut just kept laughing at me, making my tits and pussy itch with need, telling me that I had to have more. Thoughts zipped back and forth in my head endlessly, impossible to sort out. "You're a good girl. You love your husband. Forget it. Never again."

"Who are you kidding. You're so hot for that cock you'll do anything to get more." One thought after another, over and over. But as Tuesday slipped into Wednesday and Wednesday into Thursday, the passions stirred up Joe slowly started to recede. On Friday I used one of those early warning pregnancy tests. I found out I had escaped my decent into adultery without permanent penalty. This was the sign for the "good wife" to reassume complete control. We resolved never to go near Joe again. It was a one time thing, and that was all. Yes, it had been exciting, but it wasn't that special. (You can almost convince yourself of anything if you try long and hard enough.) Friday night was the second time that week I had sex with my husband. I worked extra hard that night to make our loving something special. Afterwards, as I drifted off to sleep, I decided that it had been just as good as that day with Joe. Yes, I said all those things to myself, and the "good wife" nodded and said, "See, I told you so," but deep down somewhere, as buried as she might be, the slut was still laughing, and still craving more.

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. My husband left very early, still trying to bring his project in on time. I was left alone to deal with Joe. My first resolve was not to get involved in any games with him, as that had led to my first downfall. I put on a pair of full size cotton panties, as plain, ordinary, prim, proper and sexless as could be. I followed that with a support bra that would make it impossible to see any details of my breasts. I then put on a full length sundress that buttoned up the front. It was pretty, but completely lacking any sex appeal. Running shoes and socks completed my armor. Dressed like this, no one could accuse me of leading anyone on or being a cockteaser. So why was my pussy damp? Maybe the images of Joe's ass that I couldn't stop flashing through my mind might explain it. Right then, I remembered that I had intended on going on the pill to prevent any possibility of pregnancy, but in all of my conflicting thoughts, I had never done anything to get a prescription. The thought that Joe could still impregnate me sent a jolt of raw eroticism racing through me, perking up my nipples and making my juices flow even more. Never mind, said the "good wife," he's not going to get anywhere near you, so it won't matter at all. Nevertheless, as 11:00 approached, the time that Joe usually appeared the whole gamut of emotions started racing through my head once again. I busied myself with housework and forced myself to stop looking at the clock. The next time I went to the kitchen, it was 11:30 and I could hear sounds of yardwork outside. I walked over to the kitchen window and there he was, shirt off and sweat already gleaming on his back.

Looking at him, the hunger started to well up in me, but I suppressed it as hard as I could. I decided that I couldn't just ignore him. I had to tell him that we would never do what we did last week again, and that he had better never say anything to anyone. I would just say that he was lying, bragging for his friends. After all, there wasn't any evidence of my adultery. I opened the kitchen door and walked out into the yard, determined to get this over with. But with every step that I took closer to Joe, my heart beat faster and my skin felt hotter. As I got close to him, he turned to look at me and that slow smile of his lit up his face. I was ready to wipe that smile from his face, but as I stepped up to him, the breeze brought me a whiff of his odor. The smell alone was almost enough to make me moan, and it was enough to make my cunt gush enough juice to wet my panties. Thank god that my bra prevented him from seeing the state of my nipples. I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. I was happy to hear that my voice sounded steady as I told him that last week was an aberration that could not happen again. I said that I could understand how he might have gotten the wrong perception of me, and how it could make him do something that he had no right to do. I said that I was sorry if he thought I had led him on, but I hadn't intended that at all. I continued that, given the circumstances, I was willing to drop the matter, and not involve anyone else, but it had to end right there. Lastly, I told him that all things considered, I thought it best for all concerned that he did not come into the house anymore.

I had managed to get through everything I wanted to say, but now I needed to get away from him quick, before I lost my control. My emotions were in a whirl, all mixed up. I just knew that if I stayed there for another second, if he got any idea of how aroused I was, I would never get away. I turned to head for the house, and safety for the "good wife," when he grabbed my shoulder and turned me back toward him. He said, "that's okay, right here is fine with me" and grabbed me by the face and kissed me hard, just like last Saturday in the kitchen. The thought hit me, "oh no! Not again!" but my heart was pounding and I was on fire from head to foot. You wouldn't think one kiss could have an effect like that, but everything from a week ago came flooding back. My nipples stood all the way up, my pussy gushed again, and I couldn't catch my breath. I stood there in his arms, stunned, and then he whirled me around so my back was to him, and pushed me forward hard. I lost my balance and fell down onto the grass, on my hands and knees.

I couldn't think. What was he doing, what was happening? But as I felt my dress being thrown up over my head, it hit me. He was going to take me right here, in the backyard, right out in the open. I tried to crawl away, saying, "no, not here, they'll hear everything, please not..." but he wrapped one arm around my waist and disposed of those nice, prim and proper cotton panties in his usual, very direct, way. He grabbed them by the crotch and ripped them right off of me, tearing them apart. The strength in his hands was incredible. Just the feel of his power made my pussy gush again. The juice started to drip down the inside of my thighs, right in front of him. This time there was no inch by inch start. He pulled me up against him and took me doggie style, right there on the back lawn. On his first thrust, his cock head separated my pussy lips and he penetrated me with half his length. A second thrust, and then a third, and he had impaled me on the full length of his massive cock. From this angle, it speared even further into me than the last time. I could feel the tip of his prick up against my cervix. A sharp cry broke from my lips. "Ughhhh, no, I can't take it, ohhhhhhh." But I could take it, and I wanted it. As deep as he could shove it in me.

There was no pretense now. He started pumping hard and fast, and I pumped right with him. I was deathly afraid the neighbors would hear, but I couldn't stop moaning. He said, with a laugh, "I better help you shut up" and he grabbed the panties that he had ripped off my body, still wet with my cunt juice, and shoved them into my mouth. I started to spit them out, but he slapped my ass, hard, and said, "leave them there." Something about the tone in his voice made me obey. Those few moments had distracted me, but they hadn't distracted him at all. He just kept fucking me, hard and fast, all the way out and all the way in, each thrust like a hammer blow to my sopping pussy. I couldn't believe how much I loved it. We weren't having sex, he was using me for his pleasure in the most straightforward, animalistic way possible, and I loved every second. I picked up his rhythm again, pushing back at him as he thrust forward, making each stroke as hard and glorious as possible. Now I could feel my orgasm building, coming faster and faster. One stroke more, two, three, four and I came with a mind-numbing explosion. I couldn't move, I couldn't yell, I couldn't do anything but hang on as wave after wave rolled over me.

Of course, none of that affected him in the least. He just kept screwing me, slowly accelerating his pace so I could never quite get used to the sensations that spread out all over me from my battered slit. He fucked me harder and harder, and the intensity grew and grew. The feel of the grass under my hands and knees, the smell of the fresh mown lawn, the cool breeze on my over heated, exposed skin, the strength of his hands on my waist, the rhythmic slap of his body against my ass, the fullness of my box stuffed with 10 inches of solid meat, the pussy nectar running down my thighs, all of my senses seem to blend together to overwhelm me. Just then, he reached up to the front of my sundress and ripped it open, exposing my bra. He sounded angry as he said, "damn, what is this crap. Don't ever wear this kinda underwear again, you hear? If it ain't sexy, I better not see it on you." With that he tore my bra off me by grabbing the front and pulling until the clasp on the back gave way. Now my tits hung free and clear, bouncing with the impulse of his driving jabs. He took one in each hand, kneading and working them until my nipples were as hard as diamonds again. "I love the way your nips get hard like this. Just like a slut's should." He then rolled and twisted them between his fingers, adding one more element to the deluge of lust that engulfed me. Of course, he never stopped or even lost his stride during this, even for a moment. His cock was relentless, as it drove me on and on, deeper and deeper into that place where the world left me and there was nothing but the feelings that his fucking made real.

I'm really not sure how long this went on, I just know that at some point I started coming again, like the last time, but even deeper, longer, and harder. I screamed behind the gag, over and over again, out of control, as I came and came and came and came, seemingly forever. Somewhere during this, my arms gave out and I was face down in the grass. But he never let go of me, and he never stopped screwing me. And my orgasms, one blending right into the next, went on and on.

At the end, I must have fainted for a bit. When I came to my senses, he had pulled out of me, and there were gobs of cum rolling down my thighs from my red, swollen, pussy lips. I looked around, and there he was standing over me, his cock still hanging free. He looked down at me, lying there on the grass, with my clothes torn apart and my pussy gushing his cum, and he laughed. "Ever heard someone say I'm going to fuck your brains out? Well, that's what they meant." And he laughed again. He was right, too. He had fucked my brains out.

He pulled my panties out of my mouth, crooked his finger at me and said, "okay, finish up" and I knew exactly what he was expecting. I could hardly believe I managed it, but I got to my knees and quickly licked him clean. I was so exhausted from my orgasms that he had fucked out of me that I couldn't even think of finding the energy to blow him, even if the thought was exciting. That's how much the slut in me had taken over. As worn out as I was, I still was thinking about more. If I had known what was going to happen next, I would have found the strength to suck him off.

"No blowjob today? Fine. Let's go in the house then, I'm not finished with your snatch yet." With that, he dragged me to my feet and propelled me toward the back door. I had just enough time to grab the discarded bra and panties as he pulled me up. As we entered the house, I practically begged him, "Please, please, just let me rest a minute. I can't, I just can't...."

"Yeah, sure, no problem, you can rest in bed, bitch" and he laughed again. "Show me your bedroom." That was the last place I wanted to take this man, but it was clear to me now exactly who was in control, and I did as he told me. When we got to my bedroom, he told me to take off what was left of my clothing. There didn't seem to be any point in trying to refuse, so I threw the bar and panties on the bed and took off the sundress and my shoes and socks. For the first time, I was completely naked in front of him, but Joe was more interested in his surroundings. He looked around the room and whistled appreciatively. "Very nice." We had a king sized bed with an old fashioned brass headboard, a dressing room, walk in closets, and a huge bath with separate shower and jacuzzi tub. "I could get used to this," and he pushed me onto the bed.

I lay across the bed, too tired to move. I still hadn't recovered from my extended orgasm. All I could do was lay there in front of him and try to catch my breath, and my wits. He didn't give me very long. After a minute of looking around our bedroom, he pushed me into the middle of the bed and got in beside me. I was lying on my side as he nuzzled up behind me and started kissing my neck and shoulders and running his hands all over my body, massaging, kneading, and fondling. From my hair to my back, my breasts and nipples, my ass and thighs, his hands roved all over. His touch ranged from butterfly light to deep and sharp. I'd never seen this side of Joe. I liked it. A lot. It was invigorating, restoring and sexy as hell. I thought that I should try and stop it, that I shouldn't just lie here and co-operate. And then I thought, "who am I kidding, he just spent the last hour with his dick in my cunt." Somehow, though, this felt more intimate, yet I didn't want him to stop. I was starting to get wet again. Every time he ran those strong hands over my nipples, they got just a bit harder. And every time he ran his hands over my ass and thighs, my twat got a little bit wetter. He gently pulled my shoulder toward him, and I rolled over to face him. He kissed me, and without even thinking I kissed him back. Our tongues mingled, explored, touched, melded. The flame that had started in my pussy exploded in my mind. I wanted him. It was in that moment that the "good wife" fled in defeat, knowing that the slut had won. I remembered again that every time he came in me, the chance of him impregnating me went up. It just made me hotter, more hungry for him. I realized that I had returned to full heat, my breasts swollen, my nibbles hard, my pussy lips enlarged, my box sopping and my clit erect.

I looked into his eyes, and in a horse whisper said, "Please, fuck me, fuck me now. I need your cock in me right now." He just smiled his slow smile at me and put his hand over my mound. He slipped one finger into my slit, and then a second. As he slowly fingered me, he rubbed the heel of his palm around and around on my clit. He was showing me that he could make me boil over without his dick, and he was doing a great job. "Ahhh, yess, don't stop, ooooohhh" but just as I got near my climax he did stop. I was right at the edge, but not over, and he knew it. He waited a couple of minutes for me to cool a bit, kissing and sucking my nipples, and then he started again with his hand. Right to the edge, and then he stopped again. By the third time, I was so crazed that I reached my hand down to finish myself, but he took both of my wrists in one hand and stretched them out over my head. Then he waited a minute and started again with his other hand. His grip was like a vise. He was driving me insane, but there was absolutely nothing I could do except endure the sensations that were becoming so intense that the border between pleasure and pain seemed to blur. I was reduced to pleading, "oh, oh, god, please, please, I can't stand it, oh please I beg you, let me come, please ohhh, ohhh...." Just as he had done with his huge cock, he had reduced me to helplessness with his incredible hands.

Finally, when I was well past the point where I thought it would ever end, he rolled over between my legs and took me to the hilt with one thrust. My pussy was awash in his come and my juices, so even his mammoth member didn't meet much resistance. When he hit bottom, I screamed at the top of my lungs and came. It was just one orgasm, not the endless string that I had had before, but it was as intense as anything I have ever felt. My entire body spasmed and heaved, completely beyond my control, as I was gripped in the center of a hurricane of climax. Eventually it started to subside, and I felt him start to slide in and out of me in that now familiar, compelling, inescapable cadence. I was stunned as I started to move with him, thinking that it was less than an hour since that marathon coupling on the back lawn and he was as hard as he had ever been, and moving just as fast. Each thrust pushed a little more cum from his previous discharge out onto my thighs. I had always been fastidious after sex with my husband, going to the bathroom right away to clean up, not wanting to have his cum dripping on me, but now the feel of it on my body just made me hotter still. After a few minutes, he let go of my hands and lifted my legs in front of his shoulders, giving him complete and easy access to my cunt and ass and making his prick go even deeper into my snatch.