Table of Contents: "My First Marriage"
Story Series (Multiple Episodes)
This story is based on events of my first marriage in the years 1971-1972. We did not stay married. I should have responded differently if I was older, but I was as young as she was, and it hurt me.
In addition, it was the fact that it took place in the neighborhood where had grown up, not long after my father had died. And some of the men involved were old army buddies of my dad, practically uncles to me.
Not that I blamed them in the end. In a way
my "uncle" Henry was looking out for me. He had stood in at my
wedding like my dad and I would not have thought he would get involved but he
felt that she was getting what she deserved.
After our divorce I heard more things about her, and I will add those stories now to the whole.
I am thinking that that the whole thing happened because of her repressed up-bringing, being a Mormon, which made her the way she was, but I don't know. Even at the end she seemed so confused about her feelings. She was ashamed of it of course and very emotional when I found out and made her tell me all about it, but she just didn't seem to understand what had happened. She didn't even think that it was her fault. She had not wanted me to be hurt. She still wanted me to love her. But I just could not stand it.
She must not have been happy in our marriage. She did not feel as loved as she should, I guess. But what was it she wanted?
She did everything she could to make me love her. She would do anything to make me happy, she said.
For that matter she just wanted to make Mr. Miller happy. She just wanted him to love her too.
She would do anything to make him happy too. Or at least that is how it had started, she said.
He had told her that he loved her, and she had not wanted to hurt him. She just wanted to make him happy.
Mr. Miller was her boss at the Jewelry store where she worked.
I should have guessed what was going on. She couldn't help herself, I guess. Once it started it just kept rolling...
Installment #1: I find out about her "show" at Bob's Bar--my father's own hang-out
I looked at her. Shocked. Blinking in anger and astonishment. I asked stupidly: "What do you mean? . . . You took off your clothes?" She nodded sobbing and I raged. "They paid you for it?" I blurted. She shook her head, "No, you don't understand." "That's where the money came from. They paid you ... to take off your clothes!" She protested that no, that is not it, she only did it because she Mr. Miller wanted her to do it. She did not want to do it.
Installment #2: Mr. Miller Says He Loves Her
He begged again: "Is it
okay? May I see you--just look at you?" Again, she did not really
understand what he meant and smiled, and she nodded and said "Please, Mr.
Miller, it is late."
Installment #3: She Does Something for Mr. Miller that She had Never Done For Me
So now we come to that Friday night. Mr. Miller was more certain himself and more determined to have his way. When he made their drinks that night, he made them very strong and when they began kissing he almost immediately unzipped the back of her dress, and this time unzipped it all the way to bottom so that her dress was loose about her shoulders and he could reach in and feel her back and the slip she was wearing, which he did, and which my wife did not resist.
Installment #4: She Does Not Want to Go Back to Work but We Need the Money
He said: "Okay... . I want you take off all your clothes. Right here.... Will you do that for me?"
Installment #6: Next Week -- Monday -- Teasing Her, Teasing Customers
She looked hurt. She said: "Why?" He shrugged. He
kissed her warmly and told her he loved her. He would never do anything
that she did not want her to do, that he was sorry it upset her. She
cuddled with him like that, soothed by what he said. He unzipped her
dress and slipped his hand inside, drawing it away, so that it fell along her
right shoulder and felt her breast, stimulating her nipple, while he kissed
her.
At that moment Mrs. Miller came in for lunch and they nervously
straightened their clothes. Mr. Miller zipped her up, just as Mrs. Miller
came in to greet her. Standing in front of Mrs. Miller, flushed, aroused,
naked underneath her dress, made her feel naughty and embarrassed. Mrs.
Miller must have noticed how she looked.
Installment #7: Tuesday -- Masturbating for Mr. Miller
Miller explained: "I think men like to see you naked."
She shook her head. "Yes, you do." He said, "I
have seen how you look. I remember how you looked at me the first time I
undressed you. I remember how you looked when you undressed out there in
the shop. I remember how you looked at Bob when you stood in front of him
naked."
Installment #8: Wednesday -- Naked for a Customer
Karen was flustered and blushed but was without voice. It should have been obvious to the customer that she was uncomfortable and unwilling, but Mr. Miller explained her reluctance: "She doesn't want her husband to know what she does."
The man laughed: "I should imagine."
"She is very pretty, though, don't you think?" The man nodded enthusiastically. The customer stared at her bare breasts and still she hesitated, running her fingertips back and forth along the waistline of her underpants. Mr. Miller said: "Tell you what? Will you give her five dollars to take off her underpants?"
"I can't do it, " she said softly to herself, as she stood outside the door of the shop. A passerby looked at her, but she continued in her self-absorption: "I can't do this . . . I'm married and I'm Mormon and I . . ." But then she recalled all the obscene things she had already done, even though she is married and a good Mormon girl. She thought about the customer and of being naked in front of him. She thought of Mr. Miller's lollipop candy-topped sticky penis drooling sperm in her mouth and how she had felt some strange satisfaction when he had ejaculated into her mouth. The power she had over it, how it pleased him, how she loved him. She thought about Bob, his bending over her as she lay with her legs up and spread for him and his breath, his unshaven face, and how he laughed at her as he leaned in and his thick cock forcibly poked into her open vagina. Engorging her so completely, going into her so deeply. Looking down at her dress, she touched the place on her belly, just at the belt, where she had felt how deeply it had seemed to have pushed up inside her. Again, she felt the sexual urgent pleasurable pang in her groin.
She entered the shop. Inside it she felt faint and giddy. Mr. Miller was waiting on a customer. It was a good sale for an expensive item. He said curtly: "In the back, young lady. Bob has been waiting for you."
Bob was sitting at a stool. He stood up when she came in. He said merely: "You look a little sick. You okay?" She nodded. He nodded but did not believe her. He said: "Go over there."
Installment #10: Wednesday (Continued)-- Bob and Al in Tandem Again and Show the Pictures at the Bar
Al drew off his pants and his underpants, and Bob handed him the camera. It was his turn, he explained, and he wanted a picture of sticking it to my wife from behind, his cock in her cunt while he looks off camera proudly and she hangs her head in shame. That was a picture he would cherish.
"And I did it," he told me, "Took off my pants and told your wife where to stand, to grab the stool and bend over and she looked back at me to see me strip my underpants down and my cock pop up, ready and randy for me, and Al got down crouching and his dick still half waggling hard too. She saw that too. And I got up behind her grabbed ahold of her two buttocks and did not even have to hold it to guide it in, she was that ready, I just slipped it between those lips, and it slides in easy like a greased pole... six inches... ten... And then she got that serious look on her face, like she's thinking of it, feeling it, she gasps, and Al takes the picture just as I turn to mug for it and give the thumbs up—OK. "
He poured me more to drink: "I gotta tell you, your wife's got a creamy cunt but it's a tight one, fits my cock like a golfer's glove, and I was shoving my cock head up hard against the back of it, deep into her belly, bumping into her hard, shoving her, and she'd grunt and whimper when I hit that spot."
Installment #11: Thursday -- My Uncle Henry Makes My Wife Take Off Her Clothes for Him
They did not speak, and Al said nothing. He finally
stepped from behind them and sat at his stool. He smiled at Karen, then
looked up at Henry who was not smiling, still studying my wife, considering her
soberly. Everyone was waiting for him.
"But
that makes no difference," he said, leaning back on the stool. She waited. He looked her up and down, like he was undressing
her with his eyes.
He said: "We want to see you naked."
Karen said she felt again a sick anticipation. She did not want to do this. She was certain now that I would find out. She looked at Al pleadingly. She looked back at Henry. She shook her head. Al himself seeing her pathetic look balked for a moment.
Installment #12: Friday -- Porking the Pig
What they did to her shocked me, as I think it shocked her, and when
Bob told me I think he relished the look on my face, my own sense of
humiliation for her sake. I guess I was almost as naive as my wife in
some ways. Certainly, I knew that men did such things to (or with) women,
but it seemed cruel to do it to her. She was not just so young and
innocent of such things, but she was so tender in that way. Perhaps it
did not physically hurt her, but it emotionally wounded her; she was utterly
debased, or so she felt.
After this she felt herself more slut than woman for them. And
perhaps also because she revealed a perverse pleasure for it, in spite of
herself, she believed she was a slut, that they could and would make her do
anything the wanted to do, for as many men as wanted her, and she would submit
abjectly, wantonly aroused even by her debasement, with or without her pathetic
tears.
Bob said to me: "Didn't you notice how she was walking when she
came in? Didn't that seem funny? Didn't you notice it when you went
to bed with her that night? That is fucking hard to believe 'cause as much as
they fucked her like that, it must still have been swollen. Her shitter
must have been full of cum. You noticed none of that?"
The pictures that Bob showed me and his own graphic descriptions enhanced what I know about this day, for Karen had confessed to me only a little of it. I had pressed her for details, myself feeling a mixture of shame and sexual excitement at what she told me, just as she confessed doing it, but she was not honest with me. After meeting with Bob, having seen the pictures, hearing his details, I spoke to her again, once last time before I left her for good, and she told me anything else I wanted to know. By then she was emotionally spent and was resigned to my anguish. She looked at me sadly and told me candidly what she did, how she felt, although still she was confused about her feelings and conflicted in emotions. She had been sexually aroused by what she was ashamed to be doing. She had sexually relished her humiliations and coercion. She was submissive but also wanton in her response; she had felt abused but she was also secretly intrigued and sexually craved her relentless sexual stimulation and the rolling orgasms she obtained, such as she had never before experienced. It was, as I have called it before, a sexual intoxication. She was drunk with sex the whole day, only dropping from time to time in her exhaustion for a dreamless sleep. She was drunk as well with liquor for much of the time.
Bob's' pictures and
Bob's graphic details filled in the rest. I confronted her about the men fucking her serially and about her
serially sucking off cock. This much she
admitted sullenly after I had found out about it. How could she deny it anyway? I had seen
photographs.
But when Bob turned
to the next pages and showed me the pictures of the rest of that Saturday
night, and showed me and told me what happened after these dozen or so men had
fucked her cunt, fucked her mouth, fucked her in the ass, I was
incredulous. I had never even seen
photographs like this. I had heard of
this "gang-bang" sex, but I had thought it something that didn't
really happened. It must be a tall tale
told by horny men. But it was not. It
really happened. It happened to my wife. And I would soon be shown even more
obscene pictures of even more perverse things my wife had done for them.