THE FOURTH RING
                        Copyright 1995 Hunter Jackson


A typical Friday.  Too many deadlines, too many phone calls, too many
emergencies.  Although a few of these deadlines and emergencies were the
result of my representation of Contrax Industries, I was still looking forward
to lunch with Contrax's president, Rick Robertson.  While Rick always attended
to business, he was also a bit of a "rounder", and damn proud of it. Given my
rather staid sexual relationship with my wife, Anne, I enjoyed living
vicariously through Rick's exploits.

This lunch fit the normal pattern.  Rick and I spent the first 45 minutes
analyzing and dissecting the antitrust implications of a possible acquisition
by Contrax.  After beating that dead horse one last time, Rick ordered us a
couple of Absolut Citron's with soda and embarked on a recounting of his
latest conquests.

"Married pussy!" Rick exclaimed.

"What do you mean, Rick?"  The non-sequitor confused me.

"Married pussy is the easiest, hottest, wettest pussy in the world."

"Rick, as a married man, I can speak with some experience and certainty on
this subject. Married pussy is anything but easy, and rarely hot or wet." My
reply was authoritative, but in retrospect I led with my chin on this one.

"Bill, for such a smart lawyer who charges $350 an hour, you are a total
dumbshit."

I like Rick, but he also is a bit abrasive and arrogant. Sometimes he can
really push my buttons.

Rick continued, "when I speak of married pussy, I'm talking about fucking
pussies that are married to other men.  More times than not, a married woman
is dying for a thorough fucking from a real man, not just the weekly ten
minute diddle they are used to from their husbands."

"Well, I imagine that there are some dissatisfied wives out there, but as your
friend and attorney, I strongly advise against propositioning married woman.
You'll end up with, at least a bruised cheek from her slap and, at worst,
excruciating pain from her knee to your groin."

Rick chuckled, but quickly dismissed my cautions. "Bill, you don't even have a
clue.  In the past three months, I have approached eight different married
woman, and I'm batting a thousand. I've concluded that there isn't a married
woman out there, who given the opportunity, would turn down a sexual romp with
a good-looking man."

"I don't know what world you've been living in, Rick, but I suspect that if
you approached any of the married women that I know your batting average would
quickly drop to the point that you would be sent back down to the minors."

"Like who?"  Rick stared at me confidently.

I was totally dumbfounded.  I didn't expect to be challenged on this point. My
mind went blank so I tried to avoid the question. "Look, Rick, you know damn
well that there are so many frigid wives living in the suburbs that your
theory can't hold water."

"Who?" Rick wasn't going to let the question slide.

My mind was slowly starting to reason again. I didn't really want to give Rick
the names of any of the married women that I know. Rick's the type of guy who
jumps at every challenge. I certainly didn't want him hitting on the wives of
any of my friends. Common sense suggested that the safest thing to do was rely
on my wife, Anne.

Anne and I have been married for twelve years, with two kids to show for the
venture. Anne is not exactly frigid, but she is also rather conservative when
it comes to sex. Pretty much straight intercourse, with very rare oral sex,
and certainly no anal. From the perspective of frequency, we will usually have
sex 3 or 4 times a month. I knew that Anne would never stray. In fact, she was
a virgin when we married.

"Well, Rick, like my wife, for example.."

Rick smirked.  "You mean Anne?"

Rick had met Anne at a few business functions. Ceertainly, nothing untoward
occurred. Anne is always the epitome of propriety.  Not that she isn't
strikingly beautiful, but she masks her 5 foot, five inch, 115 lbs. frame and
35-21-36 figure in expensive and conservative attire.  One of my unspoken
complaints has always been that Anne's delectable ass is never displayed in a
manner befitting its magnificence. Of course, her dark brown, shoulder length
hair is always perfectly coiffed and frames her high cheek-bones, porcelin
skin and full lips.

"Bill," Rick shook his head in a condescending fashion, "do you really think
for a moment that Anne hasn't fucked around on you?"

Not wanting to give any credence to Rick's outrageous suggestion, I tried to
remain composed when I confidently replied, "I know she has never cheated and
would never cheat. That's why your hypothesis about married pussy is fatally
flawed."

"Well, Bill, if Anne hasn't taken on any other men, it's only because she has
never been presented with the right opportunity."

"Sure, sure, Rick,whatever you say..." My cynical response only served to
heighten Rick's competitive nature.

"Look, I'll prove it to you if you doubt me...but its got to be a fair test.
You can't purposefully intervene or interfere. You just give me a reasonable
chance to prove my point without letting Anne know that's something's up, I'll
admit I'm wrong if I fail. Hell, I'll even let you handle drafting the
Berringer contract at double your hourly rate."

It sounded like a deal to good to be true. I'm sonewhat ashamed to admit it,
but I really wanted the Berringer contract, and double my hourly rate would
pay for a nice ski vacation. Yet, I recognized that Rick is a shrewd man.
"What happens if your right?" The lawyer in me always tries to weigh all the
variables.

"See, your already afraid that I'm right! A second ago, you thought I was full
of shit...I'll tell you what I'll make it an easy wager. If I'm right, you
agree not to interfere and let what ever happens to happen. OK?"

Less than enthusiastically, I said "Deal."

For some unexplainable reason, I looked at Anne differently that night as she
emerged from the shower. I wondered how she would react to Rick coming on to
her. I wondered whether her nipples would become erect in response to his
flirting, whether her pussy would involuntarily lubricate. As I daydreamed
about the possible scenarios, I suddenly imagined Anne naked, laying on her
back, her legs spread wide, bucking her pelvis wildly to meet the thrusts of
Rick's invading cock. Certainly, I had never witnessed such a scene when Anne
and I make love. It dawned on me - as these illicit thoughts cluttered my mind
- that my own dick was hard beyond any normal erection.

That night I attacked Anne with a fervor. I wanted to reassure myself of my
potency. But, Anne reacted as always, reservedly and in control. Even though I
fucked her with what I thought was superhuman intensity, she laid there,
moving slowly, waiting for me to finish. At the ordained moment, Anne reached
up and began to fondle my balls and the sensitive skin between my scrotum and
asshole. Anne knows that this sensation always sends me over the edge. Even
though I desparately wanted to hold off until her belly rippled with an
orgasm, the sensation was too great, and at the last moment, the image in my
mind returned to Rick slamming his dick into Anne's cunt. I climaxed violently
and collapsed. With her normal grace, Anne slipped out from under me and
rolled over to go to sleep. Yet, for me, these unsettling images continued,
until I too fell into a deep sleep.

For the next week, I continued to be haunted by these perverse images of Rick
and Anne in the throes of all varieties of sexual couplings. I found myself
masturbating with a fervor that I hadn't known since adolescence. Of course,
Anne was oblivious, remaining the picture of propriety. Perhaps fortunately, I
didn't have occasion to speak with Rick during this timeframe, either. the
situation began to take on the hazy quality of a wicked nightmare.  That is,
until a local charitable cocktail party.

It was a typically staid affair, with all the frigid wives parading in their
diamonds and designer duds. The husbands, with their fat wallets and brokerage
accounts, sucked down fine whiskey while sharing off-color jokes about their
bimbo secretaries.

Anne was in her element. She was dressed impeccably in a black, backless
number bearing some French designer's moniker. Actually, it was rather unusual
for Anne, for it displayed her cleavage and a healthy dose of leg. Of course,
Anne had a unique way of looking classy and not the least bit sensual.

After a couple of vodka and tonics, I was startled by Ricks booming voice. It
was quite a surprise since Rick normally eschewed these suaree's.  "More
boring than trolling for babes at a convent," I remember Rick once saying.

"Rick, what the Hell are you doing here?"

"Bill, you cynical bastard! I'm here because I care deeply about the very same
things that everyone else here cares about"

"Oh, and just what would that cause celeb be, eh Rick?"

"Something about irradiating the Bosnian, homosexual humpback whales, I
think." Rick smirked, and in a sotto voice said: "You know, Bill, I've changed
my take on these society bashes. While I still believe that the vast majority
of pussies present haven't had a good ploughing in the last decade, I've
concluded that this fact presents someone like me with endless possibilities."

"God, Rick, you are such a complete predator!" I replied.

With that comment, Rick glanced over towards Anne, who was engaged in some
banal conversation with the hostess of the party, and remarked: "So, speaking
of cunts yearning to be filled, how's our little girl, Bill?"

Flushed with anger and indignance, all I could muster was: "Fuck you,
asshole!"

"Now, now, Ricky boy, remember our wager. Besides you're so confident about
Anne's fidelity that there's nothing to worry about, right?"

With that, Rick made a beeline towards Anne.  On the one hand, I felt like
intervening. On the other, I truly wanted the vindication of Anne spurning
Rick's base advances. In the end, I drowned my indecision in more vodka and
tonics.

As the evening wore on, my stomach felt oddly queasy. This feeling was
exacerbated every time I lost sight of Anne. Yet, throughout, I could not
ignore the aching in my balls.

To my frustration, Rick had succeeded in cornering Anne into a long one on one
conversation. This was quite surprising since Anne was notorious for her
ability to work a crowd. Many times, people would come up to Anne and
apparently interject themselves into the conversation. Normally, Anne would
use the interruption as an opportunity to move on. At the very least, Anne
would always graciously welcome the new party into the discourse. Yet, on this
evening, Anne's body language caused the interlopers to move on after only a
comment or two, leaving her and Rick to themselves.

Finally, the event was coming to an end, and the caterers began to pack up.
Anne remained clearly in sight, and fully clothed, albeit in conversation with
Rick. At last, I felt a sense of relief and victory, as Anne left Rick and
walked over to me. My elation was short-lived, however.

"Honey, I don't feel like calling it a night yet. Rick's invited us to join
him for drinks and dancing at a club. What do you say, it'll be fun,
especially after you've had to put up with this boring purgatory for hours."

I had no choice but to agree. I certainly couldn't beg off and tell that I had
wagered her fidelity for some good billable work. Likewise, I would be
breaching the deal with Rick if I interfered.

"Sure, honey, that sounds great." While I was less than enthusiastic, I
rationalized away the risk that Rick might actually succeed. After all Anne
had done nothing improper, yet.

Perhaps ill advisedly, I had more vodka and tonics when we reached the club.
The dim lights and smokey air of the club further clouded my self induced
alcoholic haze. The loud music also rang in my ears and distorted the
conversation.  Rick had strategically sat next to Anne in the booth,
relegating me to the other side of the table. My inability to make out or
participate in the dialogue heightened my paranoia.

Rick was chatting up Anne with aplomb, and had even manuvered his arm around
her shoulder. When it came time for dancing, I was in no condition to spell
Anne from Rick's devious onslaught. Putting aside my agreement not to
intercede, my cordination was completely shot from the drinking.

At first, it was fast dancing, leaving Rick little opportunity for bodily
contact. However, late in the evening, the music slowed and Rick pressed
himself close to Anne. My senses may have been dulled, or my paranoia rampant,
but I could swear that I saw Anne gring her belly into Rick's bulging groin.
Maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself, but as I downed my n-teenth vodka
and tonic, I began to visualize illicit pictures of Rick fucking Anne
ferociously with Anne bucking back like a thousand dollar slut.

Rick and Anne had, meanwhile, danced their way to the most remote and dark
corner of the dance floor. Again, my perceptions might not have been acute,
but I am sure I saw Rick and Anne engaged in a never ending, french kiss while
Rick slowly stroke her ass and fondled the sides of her breasts.

Blessedly, closing time finally arrived. As we staggered to the door, I
surrendered to Anne the keys to the car. Rick said something about a nightcap
at his place and, for an instant, my heart stopped. But, for some reason, Anne
declined. I poured myself into the leather passenger seat of our BMW. Before
Anne got in she said "Ooops, just a second I think I left something in the
club."

I was able to watch Anne in the passenger rearview mirror as she walked back
to the club. But, she didn't go in. Instead, she went up to Rick as he was
unlocking the door to his Mercedes. Again, they kissed...not very long though.
I could see Anne and Rick exchange brief words. With a sly smile, Rick placed
his hand on Anne's right tit as she turned to walk back to the car.

Anne made a little small talk on the drive home, but her thoughts were clearly
elsewhere. Although my cock was turgid all evening long, the alcohol caused me
to elect sleep over a desparately needed fuck once we got home. Yet, during
the night, I slept fitfully, awakening often. At least twice, I heard Anne
breathing heavily and the rhythmic sound of her hand vigorously at work
between her legs.

The next day, Rick called and invited me to lunch. I hoped that he would
simply take pleasure in the fact that he had groped my wife, and let the
"wager" drop. But, this hope was dashed almost immediately.

"Billy boy! How're you feeling after all that booze. Probably not as good as I
was "feeling" last night, if you catch my drift."

The sinking feeling in my stomach again sank in, and I could actually feel my
manhood shrink.

"Look," I implored, "why don't we just call the bet a draw"

"No go, Billy. That wouldn't be very sporting. Especially after all my hard
work. But, I'll tell you what: Let me try to ask Anne out alone just once. If
she turns me down, I yield the point."

"Okay. It's a deal." I reluctantly agreed, believing that Anne would never
risk being seen alone, in public, with Rick.

Rick was smirking like a cat with canary feathers hanging out of its mouth.

"What the hell are you smiling about!"

"Well, Bill, I forgot to share one little fact before you agreed: I already
asked and Anne accepted. We're going out tonight."

I felt as if I was going to implode. That morning, Anne had asked for me to
watch the kids because she was going to have a girl's night out with her best
friend, Kathy. We had allowed one another "night's out" since our last child
was born as a method of preserving our sanity. I never dreamed that Anne might
use this arrangment to fool around on me. Of course, Rick could be
bullshitting me. I'll never put that above him.

"Tell you what Bill," Rick continued, "at the end of the evening I'll give you
a call to let you know that Anne's on the way home. Just to make it
interesting, I'll let the phone ring once if nothing happens, twice if she
only allows a little petting like last night, three times if she blows me, and
four rings if she is well fucked."

When I got home that evening, Anne was busily getting ready to go out. But,
she didn't act or dress any differently than on other occasions. I
rationalized that Rick was simply torturing me, and that Anne was going out
with Kathy.

"On the way out the door, Anne gave my her traditional peck, and said: "Kathy
and I are going to catch that new French film and maybe go out for dinner and
drinks afterwards. It's a three hour movie, so I'll probably be late... no
need to wait up."

Initially, ignorance was bliss. I chose to disregard Rick's boastfulness and,
instead, trust Anne's honesty. Yet, once I put the kids down, my mind began to
wander. A combination of jealousy and uncertainty gnawed at my brain. But, at
the same time, I felt bad about doubting Anne.

By 10:30 PM, my stomach became unsettled in the same fashion as the night
before when Anne and Rick were on the dance floor. By 11:30 PM, my paranoia
overcame reason and I thought about ways to confirm Anne's fidelity.

So, in a very sophomoric manner, I called Kathy's telephone number.
Embarrassed, I almost hang up after the second ring, but then a groggy voice
answered "hello". It was unmistakably Kathy's voice, and it sounded as if I
had awakened her from a deep sleep. Flabbergasted, I set down the receiver
without saying a word.

To my ironic dismay, I had proven that I wasn't paranoid. Anne was out with
Rick.

As midnight eased into the early morning hours, my mental imagery was torture.
I would alternate between fantasies of Rick fucking Anne in all different
positions, with fantasies of Anne resolutely turning down Rick's advances,
saying "No, I'm a married woman!"

Tellingly, my cock was rock hard as I imagined Rick ploughing into Anne's
pussy. With guilty perversion, I stroked myself to an incredible orgasm, which
brought on sleep.

Suddenly, I awoke with the sound of the telephone. I looked at the clock; it
 was 2:26 AM! It seemed like an eternity before the phone rang for a second
 time. I quickly rationalized that Anne had already engaged in a heavy petting
 session with Rick, so this second ring should not be that surprising. But,
 just then, the phone rang for a third time. The shock of the thought of Anne
 sucking on Rick's dick staggered me. I waited with dreaded anticipation,
 wondering if the caller had hung up.

BBBRRRRIIINNNGGG! The fourth ring pierced through the darkness of my bedroom.
Instantaneously, my cock erupted in another climax without the aid of manual
stimulation.

There I laid in the dark. My belly covered with my own cum. The phone hadn't
rung a fifth time. Yet, I still wondered whether Rick was intentionally
torturing me. After all, this was hardly evidence that Anne had succumbed to
Rick's seduction. At most, it merely suggested that Rick and Anne had been
together. While their being together was not particularly comforting, it
certainly didn't prove infidelity.

So, I waited for Anne to get home.

She arrived about fifteen minutes after the fourth ring of the telephone. Anne
slipped into the bedroom without turning on the light. Apparently, she thought
I was asleep and I didn't disabuse of the notion. She seemed somewhat unsteady
on her feet, perhaps the result of a little too much alcohol. Unfortunately,
it was too dark to make out anything more than her silhouette as Anne
discarded her clothing into the hamper. Nude, she made her way to the bathroom
and closed the door. I was a bit surprised to hear the shower since Anne
normally showered in the morning. But, it did afford me an opportunity to
inspect her dirty clothes.

At first,  I noticed nothing abnormal other than the smell of smoke that
garments always collect in restaurants and nightclubs. Of course, I didn't
want to turn on the light so my inspection was hampered. When I retrieved
Anne's panties from the hamper, I felt an obvious wetness. In fact, the crotch
was thoroughly sopping. Instinctively, I brought the soiled panties to my
nose. The aroma was striking. While I immediately recognized the feminine
smell of Anne's sexual lubricants, there was some other smell even more
evident. It was a familiar, pungent aroma...it was the same fragrance that I
smelled twenty minutes earlier when my balls spewed my second load of the
night.

Oddly, these mixed remnants were not in the least bit offensive. I slipped the
panties into one of my drawers for further examination in the daylight hours.

When Anne exited the bathroom, she had already turned out the light so again
my vision was impaired. But, she did walk as if she had just finished a 15k
road race. Anne slipped a white nightgown over her head and climbed into to
bed.

There was no effort by Anne to make physical contact with me. Instead, she
rolled over on her stomach with her face away from me towards the wall. Within
seconds, I could hear the sound of her deep breathing as if she was already in
REM sleep.

I didn't want to wake her, but my curiosity persisted. After about thirty
minutes, I extracted my pen light from my bedstand and flicked it on under the
covers. Anne's nightgown had ridden up, fully exposing her legs and ass. Just
then, she moved her right leg giving me a clear view of her pussy from behind.
I was amazed by what I saw.

Anne's labia were swollen and pink. In the place of her normal little slit was
a gaping opening where I thought I could see all the way up her vagina to the
cervix. There were no apparant fliuds; she must have cleaned and dried herself
in the shower. I marveled at the sight. It was something I had never even
seen, not even on our wedding night. I could only imagine the size of the
organ that must have done this damage to Anne's womanhood. I certainly
wouldn't be enjoying the pleasures of Anne's tight cunt for some time, if ever
again.

Approach avoidance.  In the morning, while Anne slept, my feelings alternated
between abject depression and wanton lust. Fortunately, when I began to slip
in the abyss of bemoaning the fact that Anne had been unfaithful, I pulled out
Anne's panties. The negative thoughts dissipated as my erection grew. The
fluids had dried into an obvious yellowish stain, but the odor remained
unmistakable. I found the aroma intoxicating.

I found myself masturbating frantically in the bathroom as I held Anne's
soiled panties pressed to my nose. As I came, I knew that this intense sexual
experience was addictive, and not one easily dismissed.

Yet, as I drove to work the depression began to set in. My self-esteem was
suffering from being cuckholded.

A little after 11 AM, my secretary buzzed in to let me know that Rick
Robertson was on the line. I knew that this call would come, but my heart
began to race nonetheless. Surprisingly, Rick said nothing about the night
before, instead concentrating his comments on my draft of the Berringer
contract. He then suggested that we get together for lunch to discuss some of
the deal points.

I felt strangely uncomfortable around Rick at lunch. Every time he looked at
me, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering how he had fucked Anne
last night? Was he wondering what kind of a wimp I was to allow my wife to be
screwed by another guy? Had Anne said anything about my sexual prowess?

After we had finished up talking about the Berringer deal, there was a very
pregnant pause. Rick just sat there and stared, a smirk begining to form on
his face. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. I felt as if I was out of
control, in a free fall.

Finally, Rick ended my misery. "So, I guess I proved my point. And, gee, Bill,
I'm really sorry about the condition of Anne's pussy. I never dreamt that she
could be so tight after years of marriage."

Rick had done it again: pushed my button. I really should have just admitted
it and walked away with my tail (or dick) between my legs. But, I don't know
if it was masochism or simply sheer stupididty, I took an indefensible and
idiotic position.

"Rick, you've proved nothing. Anne was out last with her friend Kathy. I know
it for a fact. You have no evidence that you nailed Anne, other than the fact
that you sat at home and called my phone number late last night. The fact that
you know how to dial my phone number proves nothing."

Rick was honestly taken aback by my vigorous defense. After a moment, he just
shook his head increduously and laughed. "Okay, if proof is what you want,
proof is what you'll get."

As we parted, Rick was still smiling and shaking his head. On the other hand,
I was kicking myself. What had I done?! I had just invited Rick to go after
Anne again! As I continued to to marvel at my incredible gaff, I began to
suspect that my subconscious may have played a very significant role in my
actions. Indeed, I could feel my cock swell as I considered the prospect of a
return engagement between Rick and Anne.

 The next week, Anne asked for another "girls night out." Of course, I had to
agree. This time she dressed in a more provocative manner: a black silk slip
dress, no bra (something I had never seen Anne do before) and I think she was
wearing black thong panties (to my knowledge Anne didn't own any underwear of
this type). Anne concocted no alibi this time, rather she simply kissed me on
the cheek and said not to wait up.

After the kids were asleep, I drank three beers and retired to my bed sans
clothes. With absolutely no sense of personal dignity, I fondled and sniffed
Anne's cum soaked panties while imagining the salacious things that she and
Rick must be doing at that very moment. I stroked myself to at least two good
climaxes before falling asleep.

Even in my dreams, I saw Anne's slender legs wrapped around Rick's torso,
 bucking frantically as he battered her crotch repeatedly with his thick,
 erect penis. Just as I heard Anne moaning in orgasm in my dream, and
 visualized Rick's balls tightening and shooting their load into Anne's
 spasming cunt, a piercing sound returned me to consciousness. It was the
 phone.

In an almost Pavlovian manner, I sat up in bed on the first ring. With the
second ring, I regained my orientation. The third ring brought a tingling
sensation to my testicles and nipples. The fourth ring triggered another
eruption from my dick. Then there was only silence as my semen pooled on my
belly and I looked over to see the clock radiate 2:49 AM.

When I heard Anne come in about 15 minutes later, I wondered what Rick's idea
of proof might be. Anne staggered into the bedroom. She pulled her slip dress
over her head. While the only light source was the LED on our alarm clock, I
could tell that she had no panties on.

"Damn," I thought. No chance for a fresh source of mastabatory smells.

Then, to my surprise, Anne just climbed into bed naked, without taking a
shower or putting on a nightgown. I could smell alcohol on her breath and, I
think, Rick's cologne in her hair. She rolled over towards me, and kissed me,
deeply thrusting her in my mouth. Her lips were loose and her saliva flowed
freely all over my cheeks and chin. Anne had never kissed me in such a wanton
and messy fashion before. The taste of alcohol was unmistakeable, but mixed in
were flavors with which I was unfamiliar. I don't know if it was the alcohol,
but when Anne finally withdrew her lips, my face was coated with a sticky and
slimey residue.

Before I could fully assess the situation, Anne grabbed the back of my hair
with both hands and forcefully guided my head underneath the sheets. My cheek
brushed her left nipple which was erect and harder than I had ever
experienced. Anne kept pushing my head until I was between her legs. This was
quite out of the norm; Anne had never demanded oral sex before. If I went down
on her, it was always at my instigation.

There I was in the darkness, under the covers. For all intents and purposes, I
was blind. Yet, my other senses were heightened. The aroma emanating from
Anne's crotch was pungent. It was the same odor I remembered from her soiled
panties, only intensified. There were squishing sounds coming from her pussy,
and every so often, a little "fart" of air would escape.

Impatiently, Anne ground my face into her groin. I could feel a hot, slimey,
sticky pool of fluids soaking her pubic hair and cradled by the folds of her
spread labia. Instinctively, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue into the
void between her thighs. The opening to Anne's vagina was enormous. It seemed
wide enough to consume my nose, mouth and chin. My tongue caught a huge glob
of the flow which oozed from her cunt. The strong taste was foreign to me:
tart and salty with a tinge of the musky flavor of Anne's vaginal juices.

Now there was no denying it. I was swallowing the semen Rick's cock had
deposited deep in my wife's pussy. Common sense, Judeo-Christian morality and
years of hetereosexuality dictated that I should be revolted. But, my rigid
dick and throbbing prostate said otherwise. With a fervor, I began tonguing
Anne's swollen and distended labia lips seeking to savor the remnants that had
already escaped from her cunt. I sucked what seemed like a endless stream of
semen from the depths of her vagina. All the while Anne moaned and rocked her
pelvis against my jaw. I heard myself whimpering with satisfaction as if I
were a suckling infant taking nourishment from a mother's tit.

Time and time again, I tried to extend my tongue and swab Anne's cervix, but I
couldn't. Rick's dick must have been not only thick as a redwood but long as
one. He must have pounded Anne's cervix well up into her belly.

After Anne had spasmed in orgasm, a thicker flow of cum poured forth. I lapped
it up and became to wonder if Rick's sperm had made its way into Anne's womb.
Even though I knew Anne was on the pill, the thought of Rick's virile seed
swimming in search of one of Anne's eggs, sent me over the edge. Without even
touching myself, I came again, my semen pooling on the mattress as I continued
to coax every drop of Rick's semen from my wife's folds.

After what must have been ninety minutes of furious efforts, Anne had climxed
three times and was clean as a whistle. I, too, was hard again, but Anne was
asleep and there was nary a dollop of sperm left in her vagina. With some
hesitancy, I decided to fuck Anne myself. I positioned my penis at her gaping
hole. Literaly no pressure was necessary as my dick disappeared. It was a
loose, warm sensation as I moved my erection around this vast expanse that had
once been a tight little pussy known only to me. There was ample room for more
and Anne's vagina almost engulfed my balls as well. Apparently, the absence of
friction allowed Anne to sleep through the five minutes of my squirming inside
of her. I tried to hold off as long as possible, but the thought slipping
around in my wife's used pussy was too much. I added my light load to the
scene of the crime and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning (which seemed to come to soon), I awoke with a crusty residue
coating my face. Rick and Anne's combined juices had dried like a tight mask.
I showered and left for work, leaving Anne asleep. Her face seemed contented.

Predictably, Rick called mid-morning to schedule a lunch. I was resigned to
the continued humiliation of picking up the check for the man who made me a
cuckhold.

Rick was beaming with his sense of achievement when I met him at the cafe'. As
we sat down at our table, Rick crowed "So, how's my boy? I hope your mommie
taught you to be a good loser."

Perhaps I lacked the depth of conviction from my earlier denials, but I
surprised myself by conjuring up enough strength to say: "Rick, I'm really
tiring of this entire charade. You haven't accomplished anything, and you
certainly have no proof."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk.." Rick replied as he shook his head condescendingly. As he
did, Rick reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a pair of black silk
thong panties which he deposited on my plate.

I immediately recognized the panties as the pair that I had seen on Anne for
the first time, the night before. After regaining some composure, I picked the
panties up with my finger and, while dangling them in front of Rick, said
"Rick, I'm surprised, I never knew this side of you. After all, a man of your
station in life shouldn't wear women's underwear!"

Rick was not amused. "Look, pencil-dick... this is your proof. Those are
Anne's panties that I kept as a souvenir from last night."

"Oh, that explains the phone call in the middle of the night." I smirked. "It
 was you up to your old games. Damn near woke both me and Anne up. Oh, by the
 way, Anne doesn't wear or own any thong panties."

As I surreptiously slid the panties in my jacket pocket (for later examination
and sniffing), Rick's face got red and angry. Then, he relaxed and suddenly
became to laugh loudly.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I think I know what's going on." Rick gasped after
stifling his guffaw. "Kinda strange, but whatever floats your boat.. ! If you
want undeniable proof, you shall have it."

The rest of the lunch proceeded without mention of Anne or the wager. But, I
did catch myself noticing Rick's cologne, the same smell that Anne brought
home. I also began to imagine what Rick looked like in the nude with
particular time spent visualizing his erect cock and heavy testicles. Indeed,
kinda strange for a married, hetero guy.

For the next few days, I wondered what kind of proof Rick had in mind. To my
disappointment, Anne did not ask for any "girls' nights out."  I was doubly
disappointed to discover that the "prize" thong panties did not have any dried
semen. There was the discernable aroma of Anne's juices, but missing was the
pungent odor of a man's ejaculate.

The next Wednesday, Rick called and invited me to lunch, again. I was
surprised. Anne hadn't gone out at all the preceding evenings. My curiosity
was piqued as I hurried to keep the lunch date. I was anxious and it didn't
help that Rick was running late. I was so nervous that I ordered a drink,
something that I never do at lunch. After about ten minutes of fidgiting, The
waiter came over and handed me an envelope with my name on it. I opened it and
found a novelty greeting card with the picture of a shapely young woman
bending over to reveal an ass comparable to Anne's with lace panties. On the
inside, it read "The End is in Sight!" Underneath was handwritten: "Your
absolute proof awaits you in the master bath of your house...Rick"

I threw a $20 down on the table and left the cafe' like a bat out of Hell.
Fortunately, there were no speed traps between the restaurant and my house.
When I arrived, I noticed that Anne's car was still in the garage, but she was
nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, I headed straight to the master bath. But,
to my frustration, there was nothing! Absolutely, nothing was amiss or out of
the ordinary! Like a fumbling treasure hunter, I looked in every drawer and
cupboard, under ever towel, even in the toilet tank. Zippo! I was ready to go
track down Rick and knock the shit out of him, when I heard the front door
open. Anne's laughter was immediately recognizable. But, she was talking to
someone else and moving towards the bedroom.

My instincts motivated me to hide or run. In retrospect, it was absurd. Here I
was in my own home, feeling like a burglar.

Since I knew that the french doors to our bedroom were locked, I was trapped
in the master bath. I switched off the light, and hoped that Anne didn't need
to use the facilities.

Initially, I sat quietly on the commode. Anne's voice grew louder as I heard
her enter the bedroom. When I could make out what she was saying, I was
shocked.

"God! I'm dripping wet! My panties are soaking." Anne exclaimed breathlessly.

Whether by serendipity or by plan, I realized that I could see most of the
bedroom including our bed in the reflection of the vanity mirror. There, I saw
a reversed image of Anne unzipping a stylish red skirt and letting it fall to
the floor where she kicked it away from her feet. She was still wearing
matching red pumps and thigh-high stockings. The tail of her white, silk
blouse covered her panties.

Although I was somewhat disoriented by the mirror image, I realized that she
was looking towards the door to the living room as she began to slowly
unbutton her blouse. As she did, she licked her lips in a seductive manner I
had never seen before. With a glistening pout, she finished with the last
button. Anne opened the blouse that slipped from her shoulders to the floor.
To my surprise, Anne was not wearing a bra. Her 34B breasts were fully exposed
with her nipples erect. With her blouse gone, I could finally see Anne's
panties. They were skimpy, high- cut and, she was right. There was a very
noticeable dark wet spot seeping through the crotch.

Anne's gaze was still directed towards the bedroom door. "Do you still like
what you see?" Anne asked in a deep voice.

I heard a  male voice reply "umm-hmmm."

"Prove it. Show me that you like it." Anne commanded.

From my angle, I couldn't see her male guest, but I knew it had to be Rick. I
heard the sound of rustling clothes and, then, an unzipping zipper. With that
sound, Anne's eyes grew very large as she looked down. Her breathing grew
faster, and she started manipulating her hard nipples.

"God. It looks even larger in the day light." Anne licked her lips again while
working her nipples.

Suddenly, Anne squatted down gracefully keeping her balance in her high heels.
With her legs spread, emphasizing the growing wet spot that now almost
saturated the entirety of her underwear, Anne beckoned with her index finger.
"Please... bring it here. I need to taste it, feel it..."

In anticipation, both Anne and I waited. On the edge of the mirror, I saw a
bulbous cock-head, pre-cum fluid dribbling from the hole. It was a little
difficult to estimate its size given the absence of a reference object. But,
it seemed abnormally large. Slowly, the shaft came into view. It too seemed
thick and had bulging veins. I expected to immediately see Rick's body, but
more and more shaft followed until it culminated in dark brown pubic hair with
commensurate testicles swaying heavily between Rick's muscular legs.

When Rick reached Anne, I could finally appreciate the massive size of Rick's
genitals. His cock-head touched the bottom of her chin while brushing Anne's
nostrils. Its length and girth were far greater than my slim 6 inches. I
mentally guessed 9-10 inches in length and, as Anne grasped his dick, her hand
could not quite encircle it.

In a worshipping manner, Anne's tongue dabbed up Rick's pre-cum. She then
closed her eyes and kissed the tip of the mammoth rod. Just as Anne's lips
parted wide, in a optimistic effort to give passage to Rick's erection, Rick
motioned to the bedstand and said: "Shouldn't you cover up Bill's picture?"

With a wicked smile, Anne got up and retrieved our wedding photo that she kept
next to the bed. She strategically placed it on the bed, inches away from
Rick's cock. Then Anne lifted Rick's cock to the photo and, in a flaunting
manner, slurped the head into her mouth.

The humiliation excited me. Anne's lips were strecthed taut and her jaw wide
open as she did her best to fellate Rick. In the background was our wedding
picture. Despite her efforts, Anne's petite mouth could not accomodate more
than 4 inches of Rick's dick.

After about five minutes of valiant efforts, Anne stopped sucking and stode
up. She slipped her sopping panties off and laid back on the bed. Her legs
were splayed wide and I could clearly see her engorged labia glistening with
her lubricants.

"Rick, I need you to fuck me good! It's about time that I get really well
fucked in this bed!"

That hurt, but my own erection throbbed.

Anne positioned out wedding protrait at the end of the bed between her legs.
Rick climbed between her thighs and began to run the tip of his cock up and
down Anne's slit. It seemed to dwarf Anne's crotch. Anne's eyes shut and she
began to moan softly as Rick prepped her for entry. As he did, there was a
squishing sound as Anne's juices flowed.

"I think your pussy is starting to get used to me, its opening wide." Rick
remarked.

"Ummm-hmmm. It misses your thick, long cock. It wishes that you were fucking
it raw 24 hours a day."

I was amazed. The impossible seemed to begin to happen. Anne's petite pussy
was expanding beyond anything I had ever witnessed. Rick's cock- head
disappeared and Anne sighed, breathed in deeply and tilted her pelvis to aid
the invader. The lips to her vagina were stretched around Rick's girth as he
slowly plunged deeper. After about three minutes of manuvering, I could no
longer see Rick's cock; his grapefruit-sized balls rested in the crack of
Anne's ass. It was an awesome sight.

Rick began to pump the full length of his cock in and out of Anne's distended
cunt. Anne became very vocal as Rick's tempo increased, moaning and whimpering
in obvious ecstasy. The slurping noises coming from her pussy as Rick pounded
away were nasty. With each thrust, Anne's body would recoil and her breasts
wiggle as Rick's penis rammed her cervix further back into her abdomin.

To my amazement, Anne's stomach began to undulate with an orgasm after about
five mintues of frantic fucking. Rick wouldn't let up and allow the spasms to
subside. Instead, he worked Anne's pussy like a finely tuned instrument,
bringing her again and again to climax until I lost count.

By know my own dick was throbbing as if ready to explode. Suddenly, in the
reflection of the mirror, I saw Rick's pace reach a crescendo, his sperm-laden
balls tightened and with an enormous grunt he launch his cum into the deepest
regions of Anne's overstretched vagina, at the door to her womb. Rick's load
was so voluminous that there was inadequate space in Anne's vagina to
accomodate both Rick's semen and his convulsing cock. Thick, white cum oozed
out around Rick's embedded shaft.

Then, I realized that my own cum was saturating my pants and running down my
leg.

After a momentary respite in which Rick and Anne (and I) caught their breath,
Rick withdrew his still erect member with a "plop" from Anne's gaping opening.