Bill, Karen, Sue, Rick & Gillian

Just a few weeks ago Karen and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. That is an important point in time, and it is very germane to this story, but it is not where our story begins. To understand our happiness you must first understand the unhappiness that preceded our union.

I would not presume to try and tell you Karen’s story. She can add that later if she wants. As for me, well my part of the story begins with the “bitch from hell,” also known as Sue. In fairness to Sue, and so you do not completely question my sanity, she did not start our relationship with that title. When we first met she was adorable, sweet, kind, generous, without a jealous bone in her body, and before we married she proved repeatedly she was a wonderful, caring, and adventurous lover.

That woman was willing to try anything sexual, be it at her initiation or mine. For example, one night I came home from work to find her at my apartment perched on my bed, wearing only a black leather vest and a pair of black thigh-high boots, propped up on her hands and knees, with her ass pointing toward me, and a tube of “K-Y Jelly” in her hand. She looked back over her shoulder at me and said, “Bill, would you like to fuck my ass?” What’s a guy to do, say no? Get a grip; I spoke with actions as I stripped off my clothes, and moved toward her with my raging hard-on.

“Bill” she said coyly, ” this is my first time so please take it easy as you push that big, hard dick into my tiny, tight, virgin asshole.”

She was great! I doubt it was her first ass fuck,; the important point is she created a scene that allowed me to think I was taking her and anal-virginity. I can only speculate if I was her first, she never said otherwise, but what I can say for sure is it wasn’t the last time a cock slipped into her anal sanctum.

“Oh look Bill, I’ve already lubed myself, and I’ve been practicing by pushing this great big dildo in and out of my asshole. I’m hot Bill, and the only thing left to do is for you to lube your cock and to gently push it into my butt.”

Within a nanosecond my prick was in her hand receiving a superlative lube job. Then without any further preparation I moved in back of her, lined the head of my cock up with her poop-chute entry, and slowly pushed my way past her anal sphincter into the recesses of her bowels. Because of her previous stretching the entry proved very easy. I was inside her ass, enjoying its warmth and comfort, and then I felt her contract her anal sphincter around my dick; it was then the fun began.

I had never felt such pressure on my dick. It wasn’t enough to prevent my movements in and out; what it did was add an immeasurable amount of pleasure to those movements. Her contraction was much like an exquisite torture as I slid in and out of her ass.

“Harder! Harder, Bill! Fuck my ass harder! Shove your cock into me as hard as you can! I want you to do in harder, damn it.”

My cock slammed in and out of her body as hard as I as I have ever pumped into anyone. The speed, force, and constricted pressure on my prick soon cause my balls to expand, and I felt the sensations of an impending orgasm begin to rise toward the tip of my cock. Before I reached that point I heard a tremendous yell of pleasure from Sue, and then I felt her erupt in an orgasmic frenzy; in a frenzy that drove me over the top into a cum of monumental proportions.

Up to that time it was the best fuck of my life, but all good things come with a price. The price for Sue and I, was her personality began to radically change within months after our marriage. Without any provocation or justification, Sue began to suspect me of having affairs with her friends, my coworkers, and even the some of the checkout ladies at the local grocery store.

I’m one of those guys who are entirely faithful, and I swear, I never once gave her any reason to think I was cheating. However, as you probably understand there is often a large gap in the brain-housing group between reality and imagination. In Sue’s case, those concepts were not connected items, and imagination seemed to rule. To this day I don’t understand what motivated her, or just as important why I tolerated her behavior for so many years. Yes, I said years. We were married ten years, and we had sex for only one of those. One thing that has helped me cope with that period of my life is the idea we each make the best decision we can at a given moment in time. In retrospect the decision may appear wrong, but it was the right at the time. I made some wrong decisions, but it does no good to beat myself up over them; I learn and move onward.

About five years into our marriage Sue changed her alcohol drinking habits. I mean she got into the serious, get down, sloppy drunk, type of drinking. On an increasingly frequent basis she would miss work because she was drunk or hung over. Within the next couple of years she turned into a complete lush. She lost her career, her friends, the love of her family, and ultimately, what little feeling I retained was dissipated. The only entity that loved her was the county court. They loved her a great deal because of all the money her DWI fines added to the county coffers.

Her unhappiness, and all the pain she caused those around her, came to an end near the intersection of Robbins Road and Highway 17. When you pick a head-on argument with an 18-wheeler heading toward you at 70 mph there is little chance for later discussion. The driver said he saw her approaching and watched in horror as she deliberately angled directly for his cab. He blew the horn and tried to maneuver, but there was no way to avoid the collision. Sue died at the scene.

At the funeral I spoke with the few relatives and family friends that attended. They were there to support me; not mourn Sue, and while everyone said they were sorry she was dead it was very apparent than none were really unhappy at her death. I wasn’t jumping for joy, but I wasn’t unhappy either. What I felt was a deep sense of relief. I could stop kicking myself for playing the fool out of a twisted sense of loyalty, and I could stop worrying about when the telephone call would come; it had at last arrived.

After Sue’s death I decided to make a new start. I sold our home, donated all of her things to charity, and my company arranged a transfer to another part of the country. I plunged into that new environment completely immersing myself in the duties of my job. For two years I thought of nobody but myself. There was no room for family, friends, or any non-work relationships. I had to let myself heal after the trauma of that horrible time in my life.

After two years I began to emerge. I began to feel that elemental human drive to be with someone. The problem was I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t frequent bars, and now that I needed the office matchmakers they weren’t there. From the early days after my arrival in town I had made it very clear to all the potential matchmakers that I wasn’t interested; and after a while they believed me. But times change, and now I was interested, and to make a long story short I joined one of those national dating services. You probably know the type I’m talking about; a service where you pay a huge fee up front for them to put you in contact with “the right” person. They were good. I met several very nice women, but nothing happened, and as my membership approached the end I was very skeptical of success. On the last date I hit the jackpot; my date was Karen.

Karen is beautiful. Not only is she beautiful in the face, she is smart, ambitious, talented, kind, and has a body to die for. She is 5’3″, 110 lb., dark blond hair, green eyes, 34C breasts, a tiny waist, and gorgeous legs. We hit it off immediately, but both of us carried some bad emotional scars, and we were very careful about allowing anyone to get close. That was good in a way; it allowed us time to first become friends, but we both could feel where our hearts were taking us. When we at last made love —- you could say we made love, but in true terms we FUCKED —– it was with a passion created from years of masturbation being our only sexual release coupled with tenderness motivated by loving concern for each other.

KAREN:

Hey it’s my turn! Before motor mouth says anything further I want to tell my story.

In some ways Bill and I had similar experiences. The big difference is in the type of abuse we withstood. Despite the fact that Bill, who is an excellent lover, went without sex for all those years, his abuse was more mental. I on the other hand was very deep into physical abuse.

Rick, my late ex-husband, was an asshole from the day I met him, but I was young, uneducated, and based on the behavior of my parents and my friend’s parents, his behavior was normal. My dad physically assaulted my mother on a regular basis, and it was the same for many of my friends. At any rate, Rick worked at the plant with my dad. I’m not sure who Dad was trying to please, but he set us up on our first date. When your parents arrange a date it clearly says the guy has their seal of approval. It was on that very first date that Rick first hit me. He slapped me when I wasn’t quick enough to get his dick out of his pants and into my mouth. The hit hurt, but I thought it was supposed to be that way; just like I thought it was correct to fuck on a first date.

From that first encounter, and for the next seven years, the situation never improved. Things didn’t change until Rick was transferred to the city. As I made friends with other company wives I discovered their husbands didn’t beat them, and it was from those same friends I gathered the strength to file assault charges against Rick. The support of my friends gave me the strength to make sure I didn’t back down like so many other battered wives.

It was difficult on the witness stand, but I stood my ground against the defense lawyer, and the judge sentenced Rick to a very long prison sentence. You should have seen that bastard’s mouth drop when the jury said “Guilty.” For quite a while after that the thing that scared me most was that Rick would come after me when he was released. That’s not a worry anymore. By a roundabout way I heard Rick had died. Apparently, he objected to getting butt fucked and to being some guy’s bitch. As a reward for standing up for himself several of the guy’s friends laid Rick across a bunk, fucked his butt raw, and then for some unexplained reason, Rick experienced a very bad fall in the shower; broke his neck he did. From my point of view it couldn’t have happened to a nicer, or more deserving guy.