Joan couldn't wipe the smile off her face, even after Marty angrily threw her down on the bed. It would remain until the back of his hand landed sharply across her cheek.
"My God, what's going on with me," she sobbed into her hands.
Tell me now – what the hell happened," he thundered
"Why don't you just tell me what happened after you left the School Board Meeting!" His voice was shrill with rage.
Joan closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and began.
"After leaving the Meeting Hall, I got on the highway and was taking my usual route home. I was listening to the radio, and I guess I got a little distracted and wound up missing my exit. I'm not familiar with that side of town, and now I know why. There was nothing around but boarded up storefronts, and dingy, rundown apartment buildings…"
I was desperate to find a gas station or someplace to get directions. Sitting in my car in the dark it brought back that whole, terrible night in the cabin - Where I was fucked by two thugs and then put on my knees and had to suck off both of those thugs, while you did nothing but watch. she said.
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"I must have snapped or something. I was sitting in the car in front of this Homeless Shelter, and I just started crying like a baby. I looked up, there was this black man knocking on the window of the passenger side. He must have been 6'4", very large, and with a shaved head. . Before I knew it he had opened the door and was sitting next to me."
"The next thing I remember is that we were in the back seat, and he was reaching up underneath my skirt and tugging down my panties. The he started fucking me doggie style" Joan said
However, Joan also left out the part about her screaming 'Fuck Me, Fuck Me, Fuck Me", so loud that it attracted the attention of a number of the shelter residents who hung out the windows hooting and cheering.
"While I was being fucked in the back seat another man got in the car and drove off. He stopped the car in some garbage strewn alley. I was lying with my face down in the backseat, and I could feel this big black man ejaculating all over my rear-end. Then this Spanish guy spread my legs and began fucking me while the other guy watched: Joan cried
Joan ended the story there. She felt it wouldn't be a good idea to describe how she pulled her knees back to her ears so the spanish guy could pound away with greater ease. Marty would never know how many times she climaxed when the black guy fucked her from behind or how she licked every drop of cum off the head of the spanish guy's cock when he was through fucking her.
To Joan's surprise, Marty was beside her - hugging her. In his mind, she wasn't some demented, cock-crazy skank but his poor, sweet wife victimized by two animals. If anything, she sensed he felt partly responsible. Wasn't it he who introduced her to this with his sick fantasy?
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"We've got to call the cops and find those bastards!"
"No Marty, please I just want to put this behind me and move on! Please Marty, don't involve the police."
The following day, Marty took her to the doctor for a thorough check-up and full battery of tests. The news was good. Other than a very sore crotch, a few bruises, and friction burns on her knees and butt, she was fine physically. Thankfully, her desecrators didn't leave any permanent mementos of their good time.
Later that week She, Marty, and the kids were attending a barbecue at a neighbors' home. It was a typical boisterous late summer party; there was music, beer, and plenty of laughs. Jennifer and Marty Jr. were having a great time laughing and playing with the other children. Everyone seemed to be having fun, except Joan. There was a time when she would've been in her element at an event like this, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. These people who she considered her friends now all seemed so dull and predictable.
Joan watched Marty clustered with a bunch of other men near the grill gabbing about fluctuations in the commodities market. Perhaps it was the crushing boredom, but all of a sudden she just started feeling tremendously horny. She wanted sex – filthy sex - and wanted it immediately. Marty was heading in the direction of the cooler when she found her opportunity. She waylaid him and discretely led him into the house.
"Joan, what's up? Are you having a good time?"
Marty looked over his shoulder to see if anyone overheard.
"Joan, honey – we're at a party; there are people everywhere," he whispered.
She dragged him up a flight of stairs, and pulled him into the first bedroom she saw.
"Joan, I don't know if this is the place," Marty pleaded as Joan dropped to her knees and undid his belt.
Joan sucked and licked his pole like a child with an ice cream cone on a hot day. However, this would merely be an appetizer.
"Fuck my ass! Ass Fuck your slut wife - Do it"
Joan tugged down her panties, turned around, bent over, hiked up her dress, and invitingly wiggled the luscious white ass in his face.
"C'mon - fuck my ass – I need it," Fuck me Fuck this Skank ass".
Realizing she wasn't going to give in, Marty grabbed her waist and plunged in.
Joan winced at the searing pain but quickly recovered her asshole was pounded by Marty's hard cock.
"Oh Yeah Fuck my skank ass" Joan finger fucked her dripping cunt as Marty fucked her asshole.
He came hard with a series of violent, angry pumps as he shot his cum deep into her ass.
Joan then started fisting her cunt until she squired her juice all of the bedroom floor. Joan's body spasmed, heaved, and ultimately collapsed with a sigh Marty gave her no time to rest in the afterglow. He pulled her to her feet.
"We are going back downstairs, we're going to get the kids, and go home!"
A limp, glassy-eyed Joan said nothing as Marty dragged her down the stairs.
After a polite but awkward goodbye, Marty marched his family out to the car. The kids whined in the back, as Mom and Dad sat up front without speaking.
Once home, he sent the kids to their rooms, threw Joan on the couch and read her the riot act. Two tense weeks passed and a shamed and penitent Joan worked hard to appease her husband. Skeptical, he had taken his vacation to stay home and keep a watchful over her. He arranged to have her see a highly regarded psychiatrist, and diligently drove her to her twice-weekly appointments. True to his word, the children would stay with his sister indefinitely.
With bills to pay and no vacation time remaining, Marty reluctantly returned to work. The children, however, would remain with his sister until he was absolutely certain Joan was free of all deranged compulsions.
It would be a long day for Joan, made even longer without the kids to look after. There was little else to do other than curl up in bed with a book. After about an hour, Joan gave up; she didn't even have the energy to read. Depressed, she tossed the book aside and went back to bed. Around noon, the sound of someone at the front door stirred her from an uneasy sleep. Not in the mood for another pious lecture, she lingered in the bed for a while before making her way downstairs.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she heard the low rumble of conversation coming from the kitchen. ?
As she approached the doorway, she stopped dead in her tracks. A familiar face greeted her, but it wasn't Marty's.
Cyrus, the black man who fucked her doggie style in the back of her car sat at her kitchen table picking over last night's leftover fettuccini. He didn't come calling by himself. Across from him sat a young girl eating Raisin Bran from the box. She looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, with bright orange hair and skin as like dark chocolate. There were tattoos up and down her arms, and her nose sported a small, silver ring.
"Freak-baby, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Tasha - she a runaway, and I'm lookin' out for the poor child."
Though shaken, Joan somehow mustered the strength to speak. "I-I'm sorry…b-but…y-you'll have to leave."
"Damn bitch, is this how you treat company? You actin' like you weren't expectin' us! You must have known, I'd be paying you a visit when I took your wallet!"
Joan's heart skipped a beat when Cyrus hoisted his massive frame from behind the table and walked toward her.
"I think I know what you need," he said with a sinister sneer in his voice. "I think maybe you need a little bit o' lovin'."
Joan turned away. She wished she was a million miles away but there was no denying she felt a rush. Once again, terrible urges beyond reason would take control of her.
I can't do this-I can't do this-I can't do this! The thought ran through her mind like a mantra.
As soon as his hot, filthy breath hit her neck, her defenses crumbled.
She offered no resistance when Cyrus pulled her blouse up over her head.
"Hey Tasha – don't them titties look nice all scrunched up in that sexy little white bra?"
Tasha didn't say a word and kept on picking through the cereal box.
"Now that we seen the titties, we gots to have a look at that fine butt!"
Joan was in the grip of the fever now. She didn't need to ask what he meant; she just undid her slacks and let them slide to the floor. Then she pulled her panries down and said to Cyrus
" You want some of this white skank ass don't you"
To be continued . . . . . . .
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