The Letter 17

This story is non-consensual/Reluctance. It includes a cheating wife, forced oral, anal, and golden showers. Thanks to my editor who helped me immensely. She also wrote the "Letter" portion of this story. While I am named as the author it is a collaboration between Desert Slave and I. Constructive criticism is welcome. Trolls who piss, moan and whine about the subject matter and try to impress me with their high moral standards will be eliminated. For the rest of you I hope you enjoy our first submission.

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Friday at last. It had been a long tough week at work. Coming home was not a lot better. The house was cold and silent. Not at all like a couple of years ago. The house¬. I know I keep saying that. This house was not my home. After a year I was still not used to it being different but, not different at all. Everything was the same as before. The same furniture, same decorations, same pictures on the wall. Very neat and reasonably clean. Neat, clean, and dead. Dead and cold. Still I could sell the damn thing in a couple of weeks when the divorce was final.

I hung my coat up in the closet, picked up the mail and headed into the kitchen. Mail on the table and a cold beer from the refrigerator. A couple of slow swallows of a very good beer. "Damn that's good". I begin to sort through the mail. Mostly junk but a couple of bills. I'll pay them tomorrow. Then one from her. My first thought was "treacherous bitch". I threw her letter into the trash with the rest of the junk.

I made a quick dinner, veal parmesan, and enjoyed it with a good Spanish Red. Yes I'm a pretty good cook; at least I think so. I washed and cleaned up. As I picked up the trash can I saw her letter but, now it was face down. On the back was written, in red felt tip marker.

" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

READ THIS LETTER

I had known her for 5 years and we have been married for 2 of those years. The marriage was good, except for the sex. The sex sucked, except there was no sucking. Nor was there anything else except for the missionary position. The real problem, at least in my mind, was her inability to cum. No cumming for her and a hell of a lot guilt on my part. I couldn't get my wife off and it hurt. Not just me but her too.

I tried to get her to experiment, different positions, oral, fingering her, toys, porn movies, ad nauseam. She was not interested in anything but missionary. Everything else was not natural or was filthy or disgusting.

Then I wondered if there was not enough foreplay. So one night, when after a very few minutes of me touching her, stroking her, kissing her and playing with her breasts she announced she wanted me inside her, I just continued to do all of the things I had been doing before. Suddenly she jumped out of bed, called me a S.O.B. and slept on the couch for the next two nights. The next coupla days were not much fun at all. So much for not enough foreplay!

Sex dwindled to perhaps once a month. In all honesty masturbation was a lot more interesting then putting up with her accusing eyes the next morning. The problem was I really loved her. Still I was at my wits' end, and I just didn't know what to do. So I began going out to the bars with my friends a couple times a week. I had, before I met her, been a hunter and fisherman. So I got out the guns and tackle, cleaned them, and begin making plans for some weekend time for me.

That weekend I had planned a hunting trip with a couple of friends. I had taken a half day off on Friday, came home and got my gear together, and reminded her I would probably would not be home until late Sunday night. The place where we planned to camp was a 5 hour drive. By Saturday afternoon the weather had gone to hell; sleet and freezing rain and visibility down to about 20 yards. About 8PM we said to hell with it, packed up and headed home. I didn't get there until about 3AM due to the icy road conditions.

I parked in the garage and took the guns out so I could put them in the safe to be cleaned the next day. I took my filthy hunting clothes off to be washed in the morning and threw then on the floor. Grabbed the guns and walked quietly up the stairs. I heard some noise from our room and assumed it was the TV, a little surprised because usually nether of us were night owls. Still I had not spent that much time away so what did I really know? As I got closer to the bedroom the sounds became more identifiable. Grunt, slap (flesh on flesh) and soft meowing sounds she made when I was fucking her. The door was open about a quarter of the way so I looked through the crack. Some skinny assed long greasy haired asshole was fucking my wife on our bed. I was instantly in a red rage.

I kicked the door open and racked the shotgun, BANG, CHING-CHING, and pointed the shotgun at him. He was very quick as he jumped off the bed and stood looking at me. His dick was pointing straight at me so that is what I aimed for. "If you move, asshole, your cock and balls will be scattered over 4 blocks," I told him. Very slowly he nodded his head. The slut on the bed was trying to cover herself.

"Do not move, whore," I told her as I pointed the gun at her. "Assume the position you were in when I entered the room." Her eyes were wide with fear and disbelief, but she spread her legs and pulled the covers off. I discussed his options with him very briefly. He elected to leave my house naked with nothing but his dick in his hands. I escorted him out the door.

She, on the other hand, was lying on the bed with her legs spread and her pussy exposed. I grabbed her hair and pulled her onto the floor, then put her on her knees. I remember slapping her and calling her names whore, cunt, slut and others.. Next thing I remember was telling her to get her slut ass showered and come downstairs, instructing her to dress in a skirt and a tee shirt and to bring her purse with her. When she presented herself to me in the den that doubled an my office I made her empty her purse on my desk, and I took everything from her junk except her drivers license. She was wearing a pleated plaid skirt that reached just below her knees. I took scissors and cut the skirt off to just below her ass and the tee shirt just below her breasts. Then I cut off her panties and her bra, "Because" as I told her "whores don't wear underwear".

I gave her the key to the 7 year old car I usually drove to work so she had the nice car to drive. I gave her a check for $2000 and $500 in cash so she would not be totally destitute, making her sign a receipt for the money. I pushed her out the door while I told her I would file for divorce on Monday, and that she was not to try to communicate with except through my attorney.

She had sent me several letters over the last year. I have always thrown them away. Now the divorce will be final in about 2 weeks. I miss her so badly. With that, why am I agonizing over whether or not to read her letter? I love her, I hate her, I need her, she disgusts me. I take a kitchen knife and place it on the letter. Do I want to open the letter or to open a vein? Slowly I draw the razor sharp knife along the edge if the envelope, slip it under the flap; a quick slice and it is opened.

HER LETTER

PLEASE READ THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH EVEN IF SOME IT MAKES YOU ANGRY AT FIRST. I HOPE IT WILL AFFECT YOUR LIFE AND I KNOW YOU DECISION WILL AFFECT MINE.

I think we both know that, before that life-changing night, our sex life together wasn't very satisfying. I understand, now, how hard you tried to give me pleasure. You might not believe this now, but I tried to please you and take pleasure with you, too! I never understood what was wrong between us. I loved you, I knew you loved me, but something was missing. I tried, I really tried, but while our lovemaking felt "nice" there wasn't much of a spark.

My girlfriends and I would talk about sex sometimes, and I was always quiet since I didn't have anything to offer. I listened, though, and tried to learn something, anything to "fix" us. Looking back, and knowing so much more now, I know you did your best and that I was the one who was resisting. I guess I could blame my upbringing and all that "good girls don't...." crap. Mom always made it sound like sex was a duty, and Dad made it sound like any woman who enjoyed sex was dirty somehow.

Every time I started to feel something with you (or anyone else, to be honest) I just froze. Maybe I was afraid you'd think less of me if I gave in and enjoyed myself. When you offered to try using toys with me, role playing, all those experiments, it just made me feel worse. I would've had to admit there was something wrong with ME, acknowledge that I couldn't please you or be pleased, by letting any of that happen. I was afraid of what you would think of me then.

Instead of taking that small, safe risk with you, I took a bigger risk with some idiot and lost not only your respect but everything else you meant to me. How ironic that I could finally find that spark we both needed only by throwing everything else away. Now I'm left wanting and needing you more than ever BECAUSE of the very night that you (deservedly) punished me and sent me away.

I promised myself that I would write to you and be absolutely honest, but here I am dancing around it once again. No more! NEVER again. If I don't tell you all of this now, explain what I learned that night, and hope more than anything I've ever hoped for in my life that you will understand and forgive me, then I can't be at peace with myself. God knows there hasn't been any peace since you threw me out.

Okay, big deep breath.

It all started with going out with the girls. You know how Liz gets sometimes, she wouldn't take no for an answer. I always think she takes me along to be her conscience so she doesn't do anything stupid. We met up with some other friends and just talked and laughed. Then Joanne started talking about sex with her new boyfriend, and all the wild stuff they were doing. I admit, it got me excited thinking about some of it, wishing I had the nerve to ask you to try some of that stuff. We had a few drinks and decided to get up and dance. There was a guy watching us, but I thought he was giving Cindy the eye, not me. But he came up and asked me to dance. Me! We had a good time, talked a little bit, but I told him I was married and not interested.

When we all left he met up with me in the parking lot. He just kissed me, hard, never said a word, and suddenly my knees got weak. In a split second I wondered if maybe it wasn't me who was the problem after all, and maybe I could find out what I was missing with this guy.

For the record, I was wrong. That kiss was really hot but by the time he was going at it with me (sorry!) it was all lukewarm again. Then you came home. I was scared silly, at first, I thought that you'd kill the guy or kill me. Not that I'd blame you, what I did was horrible. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that terrible hurt look on your face. What's even more unforgettable is what you did next. The way you grabbed my hair and forced me to my knees was like fire in my veins. You've always been so sweet, so quiet. Suddenly you were someone else!

When you dropped your pants and shoved your cock into my mouth I was shocked and angry (I know, how dare I?) I was even more shocked by how I couldn't breathe, you didn't care, and it made me dripping wet. I'd never been that wet and horny in my life! When you pulled away from me I was bereft. For those few precious minutes I wanted nothing more than to have you suffocate me with your thick, hard cock, drown me with your cum. I didn't care that my jaws hurt, or that my lip was bleeding, I just wanted you to finish, and fill me, and finish me all at the same time.

But no, that wasn't enough for you (and God help me, I'm getting hot just thinking about this). Instead I found myself bent over your knees, my ass in the air, and your big hands slamming into my flesh. Do you know I've never been spanked in my life? Not until you. The way your hand crashed into me, my God, my ass burned, my pussy leaked and all I could think was that if you just hit me one more time, smashing my cunt against your knee the way you did, that I would finally understand what everyone was talking about. And you did! You hit me again and again, made my ass burn, and made me cum for the first time ever.

I think I was crying half in fear and pain, and half in total relief. But how could I tell you? How could I let you know that I was finally all better, when I'd broken your heart and destroyed our life together in the process?

The funny thing is, I think you knew somewhere deep down. You laughed when you told me how wet I was when you pushed me over onto the bed. You called me all kinds of horrible things, things I truly deserved, as you ravaged my virgin ass. You snarled at me even as you told me how good I felt, so tight around your cock. I'm still not sure if it was the thorough ass-fucking or the continued spanking, but I couldn't get enough of you. Part of me wanted it to never end, even if you split me in half. When you finally came in my ass, feeling your cock throb as you filled me up, I felt strangely content.

I have to admit that I was shocked when you dragged me into the bathroom and pushed me into the shower. For a second I thought (foolish me) that you might clean me up and let me make it all up to you, somehow. When you began to piss on me, telling me that's what a whore deserved, I was mortified. But as your hot stream flooded over me, "daddy's good girl" dissolved. I wanted this, I wanted to be YOUR whore, for YOUR pleasure, just like this, for the rest of my life. When you guided your cock towards my pussy it was like a blessing. So hot, so forceful. My clit exploded with my second-ever orgasm. You turned me inside out. Nothing existed except your piss and my throbbing clit.

Then you walked away from me and I was lost. The reality of everything else hit me. There I was, a soaking, stinking heap, knowing that even as I'd found my bliss it was all going to wash away, and you would never know, and probably wouldn't understand anyway. How could I expect you to understand when I didn't either?

When you threw me out with next to nothing I didn't have the will to argue or complain. I knew it was what I deserved and you were really very generous, all things considered. I drove away and tried to think about where to go, what to do next, but all I could really think about was my throbbing asshole and empty cunt. I started to cry, knowing that you would never fill me like that; that you had used every hole in my body but one.

Mile after mile, it became the only thing I could think about, until I pulled over in a dark, empty parking lot, and started to get myself off. My clit was so swollen and sensitive it was almost agony. My pussy ached, wanting to be filled, missing your cock. I tried one finger, then two, and then crammed as much of my whole hand as I could inside that aching, empty space.

All I could really feel was your hand crashing down on my ass, all I could see was that golden liquid spilling from your cock to ripple over my skin. My hand was your hand, striking me, filling me until I exploded again, squeezing my fingers tight. I think I fainted for a while, it was so intense. But that empty feeling came back, and I knew it would never, ever be the same without you to use me.

I'm sorry to say that, after a few months, I did try to find someone, anyone else to replace what I'd suddenly found and lost with you. I found an S&M club in the city and got pretty reckless. Well, I tried, anyway. But they have rules in those places, and the last thing I wanted was safe or consensual. I'd already lost my sanity. Sometimes I could get pretty close...but ONLY if I played out that fateful night in my head. The guy on the other end of the whip was just a stand-in for you. His words were only echoes of your own. Even by myself in an empty bed all I could feel was your hand on my ass, your voice in my ear as you hit me and fucked me harder than I ever thought possible.

I'm sure you're wondering why the hell I'm telling you all of this, especially when you already know what you did to me. I need to tell you, to humble myself before you, if only on paper. I want...no, I NEED to beg your forgiveness. I need to beg you to take me back.

You don't have to stay married to me, you can finish the divorce, you don't even have to be nice to me. Just use me! Please, let me be your fuck slave. Do anything else you want with me, anything at all, but please make that night real again. I think I'll truly lose what's left of my mind if you won't give me that.....that incredible intensity one more time. I promise to obey you, to serve you, to please you—even your friends if that's what you'd like—if you'd just give me one chance, one day to take me again and claim me as yours.

I love you, and I need you more than you could ever imagine.

My Reaction

When I read the letter for the 4th time I was doubly aghast. Both by what she accused me of doing, and by what I was sure was her fantasy reaction. I am not that kind of guy. I think I am sweet and gentle, interested in trying to please my partner. Her reaction to her fantasy was beyond belief. I am just not like that. I don't do those kinds of things.

What is wrong with her to think she is excited by me forcing my cock down her throat? Having me rape her virgin ass and then having an orgasm. Me. pissing on her and she cums when I do? Why the hell am I getting hard when I read her letter? I didn't do those things! At least I don't remember doing those things. I don't like those kinds of things. Why is my cock so hard I think it will burst through my slacks?

She included 5 different ways to contact her. I wonder if she gives out all that information to others. I don't care, I'm just going to call her. I just am not sure what I am going to say.

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There is the potential for more chapters. If you want me to continue give me a yes vote. If no, a no vote. While I have my own ideas on where I think the story should/could go. I may be willing to incorporate your ideas into any possible continuation. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please vote. It just takes a moment.