Wifes a drunken slut
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Becoming A Slut Wife - Ripley free porn video
I sat in the car and stared out the windshield at the solid brick wall of the building in front of my parking space. I didn't know what I was feeling, relief or sadness. In fact, I guess all I felt was numb. Why had it come to this? Could I have stopped it? I suppose I could have if only I had known the true level of her desire, but I didn't. There was no way I could have known; it was just too way out for a simple guy like me. But it had happened and there was no denying it and I couldn't live with it and that is why I'd just left the lawyers office. All it took was the six seconds necessary to scrawl my signature on the bottom of the petition for divorce.
I met Ripley during my senior year at Michigan State. She was a junior enrolled in the Business Management Program and I had seen her around and occasionally I had wondered what she might be like, but I'd never had an opportunity to meet her. That changed one night at a keg party being held at the Sigma Phi house. She had shown up with some guy who immediately got trashed on beer and passed out in a corner. I could see that Ripley seemed to be nervous at being alone with a bunch of frat rats and I judged that it might be a good time to try my luck.
I found a piece of paper and I took my ball point pen and printed on it and then tore it into a square. I took a deep breath and walked over to Ripley and said, "Michael Thomas at your service" and I handed her the piece of paper. She took it and read:
Michael Thomas
Knight in Shining Armor
Good deeds, charitable actions
Distressed damsel rescuing a specialty.
She read it, laughed and then folded the paper and put it in her pocket. "This one goes in my scrapbook. So, I assume you see me as a damsel in distress?"
"I can only assume that with your escort passed out over there in the corner thereby leaving you alone to face the horde of sex crazy frat rats that you might require some assistance."
"Assistance from one of the sex crazed frat rats?"
"Frat rat yes, sex crazed no. Being a knight in shining armor requires that my heart be pure."
"So how do you see this rescue happening?"
"I am at your service my lady. I will furnish a strong arm for you to hold should you wish to continue partying, I will see you safely home, or perhaps take you from this den of iniquity to some place more in tune with your feminine sensibilities."
"In that case sir, I command you to get me out of here and get me to a place with soft lights, potent margaritas and hopefully with some decent live music."
It was the beginning of a two-year courtship that ended in our getting married.
Ripley came to our marriage a virgin and while I wasn't I didn't have all that much experience. Our first years were spent learning all about what it took to satisfy each other and in learning new ways to pleasure each other. As the years passed our sex life did not diminish, it intensified. While several of our friends were complaining about marriages going stale and sex lives shriveling up ours just seemed to get better.
One night in our seventh year of marriage Ripley asked me if I had any sexual fantasies. Hell yes, who doesn't, but tell your wife? No, no, and no! I could just picture it in my mind. I'd tell her I fantasized about spending a night with Jennifer Anniston and Ripley would say:
"Jennifer Anniston? What's so hot about her? What's she got that I don't? I'm not good enough for you? Is that what you are saying. You would rather have that Hollywood whore than me? Well fix your own dinner tonight buster" and she'd stomp out of the room."
So when Ripley asked the question I just said no. However, my curiosity was aroused so I asked:
"What about you? You have any sexual fantasies?"
"A couple."
"Oh? Why have you never mentioned them?"
"They are just fantasies honey, things you sometimes think about."
"What are they?"
"I don't really want to say."
"Why not? If I had said that I had one and didn't want to say you would bug me until I told you so why won't you tell me yours?"
"Because I'm afraid of what you might think of me if I do."
"That doesn't make sense baby. You had to know that if you asked me if I had any I would ask you. If you really didn't want to talk about it why did you bring it up?"
"I don't have to make sense honey, I'm a woman" and she kissed my cheek and rolled over on her side to go to sleep.
I laid there staring up at the ceiling wondering what she could be fantasizing about that was so bad that she was afraid to talk to me about it. The subject was never mentioned again and I eventually forgot about it. Looking back I wondered if things might have been better if I'd pushed her into talking.
Ripley had graduated with a degree in Business Management and she had gone to work at the XYZ Corporation. In six years she had risen to Manager of Human Resources and as such she had to visit the corporations other factories and offices. I could plan on Ripley being gone at least one week out of every month and sometimes her business trips could last for up to ten days. I didn't much like the fact that she had to travel, but she brought home a damned nice paycheck, which along with mine enabled us to live pretty high on the hog. We had a large house, complete with tennis court and swimming pool and a very large patio area. Ripley liked parties and so we had a lot of them. Pool parties in the summer and barbecues in the fall. We even took the nets down on the tennis court to make a dance floor and had impromptu dances. We both had good jobs, a good social life and, at least I thought, a great personal life.
We had been married a little over ten years when I first noticed a change in Ripley. She started having 'moods'. That's the only way I can describe it — moods. She would be happy one day and then halfway through the next day she would all of a sudden become pensive, moody, and standoffish or, hell, I can't explain it; it was like suddenly she wasn't even there. I'd ask her if something was wrong and her eyes would blink and suddenly she was back from wherever it was she had been and she would say, "No, nothing wrong, just something at work I forgot to do" or something like that. I didn't see it as a cause for worry because or personal relationship never changed. Ripley was as loving, affectionate and as horny as ever so I bought whatever she told me.
It was about six months after I began noticing her mood swings that it all came undone. It was a Saturday night and we were having a party to celebrate Ripley's promotion to Director of Human Resources. The house was packed with Ripley's co-workers, most of whom I only knew from her company Christmas parties and company picnics so I was keeping a low profile, playing attentive host and letting Ripley bask in the limelight.
It was a little after midnight and a lot of the guests were leaving or had already left, but there are always some diehards that want to make it last a little longer and we were almost out of ice. We have a 23 cubic foot freezer in the garage and I had laid in a large supply of ice for the party so I went out to the garage to get some. The garage is in the back of the house and it gives the house an L shape. One of the garage windows is located where if you look out it you are looking right into our kitchen. I was looking out the window as I took a bag of ice out of the freezer and I saw Ripley come into the kitchen and take a quick look around to see if anyone was watching.
Normally I wouldn't have given it a second thought and I would just have taken the ice and headed for the ice bucket on the wet bar in the dinning room. But the furtive way Ripley had looked around to see if she was being observed had gotten my attention so I stayed where I was and watched. She made two drinks and then she took a small envelope from her pocket and emptied it into one of the drinks and I watched as she stirred it until she was satisfied that whatever it was she had dumped in was dissolved. She put a straw in the drink to differentiate it from the other and then she picked up both glasses and left the kitchen.
I took the bag of ice and went to the wet bar. I was emptying the bag into the ice buckets when Ripley came up to me.
"Having a good time sweetie? Here, I made you a fresh drink" and she handed me the glass with the straw in it. I took it, pretended to take a sip of it while noticing that Ripley was watching me intently to see if I noticed anything wrong with the drink. When I didn't make a weird face or spit it out she said:
"Won't be long now sweetie and they will all be gone and you can scratch the itch I've had for the last four or five hours. Don't be so drunk and out of it that you can't get it up, okay?"
I nodded an okay, pretended to take another sip of the drink as she got back to her guests.
What the hell was going on? Why was Ripley giving me a doctored drink? Doctored with what? Was it something to give me more energy when we went to bed? No, not likely — I'd never needed anything like that before. And what was with the, "Don't be so drunk and out of it" comment? She'd never said anything like that to me before. And then it hit me. She was setting up the scene for the next morning. She would tell me when I got up that I'd had too much to drink and that I had passed out. I'm sure that there could be a hundred other explanations, but that was the only one I could come up with. Ripley had doctored my drink to put me out, but why? There was really only one way to find out.
When Ripley wasn't looking I dumped out my drink, made myself a fresh one and then circulated. As I walked around and talked to the remaining guests I thought I saw several of them watching me out of the corner of their eyes, almost as if they were waiting for something to happen. I was working blind; I had no way of knowing if what Ripley had put in my drink was supposed to knock me out or do something else. Was it fast acting, or did it take a while? I couldn't see where anything other than knocking me out would make sense, but just how much sense did it make for Ripley to knock me out to begin with?
By the time I'd run all that through my head I noticed that all the guests who were still at the party were men and that one or two of them were definitely watching me. I decided that I had to do something, even if it was wrong. But before I did I decided to set the stage. We lived in a ranch style house — single story - and I went into the bathroom and opened the window a crack. Then I went to all three bedrooms, opened the windows a crack and arranged the blinds so they looked closed, but still had gaps to see through. Satisfied with my preparations I went back into the living room and sat down on the couch.
I sat there and sipped my drink and then I faked nodding off and let my drink fall from my hand. The room suddenly went quiet and through squinted eyes I saw Ripley come over and pick up my glass. She looked down at me and reached out and poked my shoulder. I didn't move. She picked up my hand and let it go and I let it drop.
"He's out" Ripley said, "A couple of you guys pick him up and follow me." As she walked away she said, "Be careful, I don't want him hurt."
When the two guys picked me up I tried hard to stay limp and be the dead weight that a passed out man would be. They carried me across the living room and down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
"Put him in here on the bed" Ripley said.
I was placed on the bed and she said, "I'll be along in a minute; I need to make him comfortable."
I heard them leaving as Ripley untied my shoes and took them off my feet. She loosened my belt, undid the top two buttons on my shirt and then she bent down and kissed me on the cheek.
"Sorry baby, I do love you and I'm sorry" and then she left the room.
I opened my eyes and saw that I was in the spare bedroom, not our bedroom, but the spare bedroom, which meant that our bedroom is where the action was going to be. That thought suddenly made me sick at heart. There is only one thing that my wife and several guys would be doing in our bedroom. I got up and went to the door, put my ear to it and listened. Most of the noise seemed to be coming from the living room. I went back, sat down on the bed and put my shoes back on. I went over to the window, opened it and slipped outside.
I moved around the side of the house until I could look in the living room window. I hadn't cracked open any of the front room windows so I couldn't hear what was going on, but I could see. There were seven naked men in the room and they had rearranged the furniture and brought in enough dinning room chairs so that all seven were sitting in a row. They were watching Ripley as she did a slow strip for them. All seven were erect and stroking their cocks by the time she got down to her thigh highs and heels. She dropped down to her knees and crawled over to the man sitting on the left end of the row and took his cock in her mouth. Her head started bobbing up and down and after thirty seconds or so she stopped sucking on the cock and moved to the man on her right and started all over again. Thirty seconds later she moved to the right again. She continued all along the line until each man had spent approximately thirty seconds in her mouth. When she left the last man she crawled back to where she had started.
This time each man got a minute and as she worked from left to right her hands were busy jacking off the cocks of the man on either side of the man she was sucking. The third time she went back to the starting point she stayed with the man until he came. Her head was bobbing up and down and the man's hands grabbed the back of her head and I saw him arch up off his seat and then settle back down. His hands fell away from the back of Ripley's head and she pulled her mouth off of his limp cock, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then moved to the next man in line.
As I stood and watched the disgusting spectacle I wondered what had happened to my wife. What in God's name had possessed her. Drugging me, doing a gangbang, doing it in our own home? My mind was in turmoil. I wanted to go storming in and kill every fucking one of them, but I constrained myself because I knew I'd end up in prison and probably for the rest of my life. It wouldn't be worth it for just a moment's satisfaction. No, they would live, but I'd find a way to get back at every fucking one of them. They all worked with Ripley and I could find them.
As for Ripley? Whatever I did to her she would be last. She could watch the seven of them get theirs one by one and wonder if what was happening to them had anything to do with her.
Ripley had reached the last man and when he came I saw the cum leaking out of the corner of her mouth. Then everyone stood up and I figured that they were going to take it to the bedroom. I figured Ripley would look in on me when they headed for the bedroom so I hurried back to the spare bedroom, climbed in the window, kicked off my shoes and got back on the bed. About two minutes later the door opened and through squinted eyes I saw Ripley look in. Apparently she was satisfied that I was out of it and she closed the door.
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