Chapter 1

This story is so strange I had to write it down to tell you. I have been married now a total of four months and with Peter who is 24 (and I am 18.) Peter knows so much more than I do about the world as a whole. Every month on the last Saturday of the month we do something special to celebrate our "monthly" wedding anniversary.

To celebrate being married four months, a friend of Peter's (who he knew from the Army) invited us over for a small party to meet him and his girlfriend and two of their other buddies from the service.

I thought it was nice that Peter wanted me to meet his friends from the service even though they did not make it to our wedding. We arrived at Paul's house at 6:30 p.m. Friday and he introduced me to Carrie, Jack and Chuck. Jack was the bartender and when I told him I do not drink he assured me he would make me a very good-tasting drink called a Root Beer Float. When he handed me the drink it looked like a real root beer float and when I sipped it, I could not believe that it was a mixed drink. It tasted exactly like a real root beer float that the ice cream had melted in.

I drank it down rather fast for a cocktail drink, I guess you can say I drank it as I would any root beer soda float. As soon as my glass was empty, Jack filled it again. Peter and the rest of us sat around talking and chit-chatting about nothing special. Carrie got us snacks and by the fourth, or maybe just the third, drink, Some where in all that I lost consciousness.

Sunday morning I woke up in my bed still wearing my thigh-high stockings. My head was pounding, and I was feeling sick to my stomach. I was experiencing my very first hangover. I pulled back the covers to go pee when I realized that I had a crusted puddle under my butt. I know what caused that stuff. I looked over at Peter and he was snoring up a storm. I had to pee bad, so I got up and walked to the bathroom, and as I walked I felt something warm and liquid drop on my right inner thigh, then another touching my left inner thigh. I sat down on the pot, looked at my open legs and found the two little streams of what was obviously semen. I ran my finger along it to wipe it up, and before wiping it off, I brought it to my nose. Yep, it was semen all right -- it looks like Peter and I had some fun last night when we got home. I was sorry I did not remember it.

I was surprised as I sat there and big gob of semen dropped out of me. I know Peter at times has a lot of it, but last night he must had been really worked up because I cannot remember ever having that much in me after sex. I wiped myself and I did something I never do, I looked at the tissue and I could not believe the amount of semen there. I think we must have done it two maybe three times last night. Peter can be such a sex fiend sometimes.

He wants me to do all kinds of sick things; the biggest thing we seem to argue about is his wanting me to give him oral sex. Not to mention that he wants to go down on me. He is always trying to tell me that a wife does those kinds of things; I figured that some day he would find out that I am one wife that does not.

I pulled off my stocking and I was very surprised to find more semen stains on them. God, Peter was an animal last night. I stuffed them in the dirty clothes, then took four Tylenol and some Pepto. Then I went back to bed. When I woke later I felt better and vowed never to get drunk again, ever!

I got up, fixed breakfast and it wasn't much longer before Peter came in the kitchen. I gave him his breakfast and as I sat down to talk about last night Peter had a funny look on his face. I said, "I noticed that we had a real good time last night. I'm just sorry I don't remember any of it. How many times did we do it when we came home? I have never had that much of your sperm in me before, maybe we should make up for it later?"

Peter said, "Yeah, last night was wild. You don't remember any of it at all?"

I said, "Nope, the last thing I remember is sitting there listening to you and Chuck talking about some of your Army stuff, then I woke up here in my bed. I hope I did not embarrass you in front of your friends last night, did I?"

Peter responded, "No, oh no, you were great. You sort of fell asleep on the leather couch and then I brought you home. You were great, everyone likes you and even Carrie, who does not like anyone, was impressed your quick wit. That is, before you passed out."

We talked a bit but whenever I wanted to talk about our lovemaking last night, Peter would change the subject. I guess he must have not been happy with it, even though he left me so much of his semen. I took the hint and dropped it; I guess whatever it was he would eventually talk to me about (at least I hope so anyway).

I was busy the rest of the morning and around noon I was ready to shower. I went into the den where Peter was watching his golf that he likes. I told him I was heading to the shower, then headed off to the bedroom, just as I turned the corner into the bathroom, the phone rang, I reached over and picked it up and as I was about to say hello I heard Peter say, "Hello?" I was about to hang the phone up when I heard Carrie's voice ask, "Can you talk now? Is she around?" (I could not hang up the phone now.)

Peter said, "She just got in the shower, what's up?" She said, "Paul was wondering if she remembered anything about last night. Did she say anything?" Peter said, "Yeah, she thinks she and I did it last night. She was so full of cum it came out onto the bed. She has no idea what she did last night." Then Carrie said, "Hold on, Paul wants to talk to you."

I waited to hear what was coming next. Paul said, "Man, I just finished making copies of the video from last night. God, your wife is one hot mama. I was getting ready to label yours when I thought Carrie should call and find out what you want on it. Tell me, she really had no idea what she did?"

My husband, in a proud voice said, "Nope, she has no idea. I told her we did it last night when we got home, and she fucking believed me." Paul said, "No fucking way. I mean, all that cum in her and she thinks it came from you. Man, I can't wait until Friday night. Now tell me, what should I put on your label?"

There was a pause then my husband said, "Put on it "golf game from CBS" with today's date. She hates golf, so I know she won't bother looking at that tape. Tell me, did you get everything? I mean, oh, never mind, I'll watch it and see."

Paul said, "Oh, I got everything all right, you're going to love it. I'll send it to your office in the morning, so you can watch it there. Say around 9:30, is that OK?" My husband said, "Yeah, I can't wait! Call me Thursday around 7 so we can talk about next weekend. I think maybe Friday night would work out better for us. What do you think?" Paul said, "Maybe. I'll think about it and call you Thursday, but why at 7?" Peter said, "Because that is the time Linda always takes a shower. We'll work out the details then."

I heard the phones hang up and I did the same. By now I had tears running down my cheeks and I went into the bathroom, sat down on the stool and just sobbed. I could not believe it. My husband did something with me last night that was absolutely horrible. I know I had to have had sex with other men.

My husband, who said he loved me, the man I trusted beyond anything or anyone, had let other men make love to me. On top of that, it was clear that he arranged it all to happen. My husband, my husband, how could he, why? What would make him do such a thing? Should I go out and confront him? Should I leave him? The bastard, the fucking bastard, how could he? I loved him, he said he loved me. I had to see that videotape; I just had to.

I took a shower for the longest time. I felt dirty. I felt used and I could not scrub hard enough to get myself clean. I walked around in a daze the rest of the day, I don't think I said three words to him all day Sunday. I went to bed early and cried myself to sleep. Monday all I could think about was leaving Peter, but I realized that if I did leave, my parents would have won. They had told me he was no good, they told me our marriage would not last. What can I do, I don't have any money, I don't have any means of support, hell, I don't even have access to our bank account, everything is in Peter's name. I have to change that before I leave him.

By the time Monday evening rolled around, I had thought out a plan. When Peter came home I acted as I normally did. I even kissed him hello. I saw that he was carrying a videotape and I asked, "What's that?" He said, "Paul videotaped the Monterey Open for me yesterday and I may to watch it later." I knew what it was. I wanted to jerk it from his hand and watch it to see just what it was that I did. Instead I acted just as he knew I would. I said, "Golf! How can you watch that crap? Dinner is ready, so wash up, it's your favorite."

During our dinner I put my plan in motion. I said. "Honey. I feel like I am your slave. I mean, I cook, I clean, we make love and it is the same every day. When are you going to treat me like a real wife?" The look on his face, I had caught him so totally by surprise. He looked at me and said, "What do you mean? You're my wife, I treat you like my wife, why do you say that?"

I smiled and said, "Oh sure you do -- you allow me to do all the housework, but I am not on the car registration or the title to it. Hell, my name isn't even on the bank account. Everything belongs to you, not us. If I am part of your life, why is it that I am not listed as Mrs. Clark on those things? Why is that?"

Peter said, "I'm sorry, honey, I was going to get all that changed, honest I was, I have just been to busy. I'll get it done soon, I promise." I said, "Good, because until you start treating me as a wife and put my name on that kind of stuff, I'll be sleeping in the guest bedroom."

God, the shock on his face was fantastic. I wish I had a camera to keep that look forever. He said, "That's a little extreme, isn't it? I'll get you added to the account and I'll change over the cars. You know you're down as co-owner of the house, and that should count for something." I said in a sarcastic tone, "Co-owner? I'm not down as co-owner. You have me down as, what is it? Hell, I don't know what you call it but I get the house in case of your death. I don't call that co-owner, it's more like an insurance policy. Hell, why are we married if you are not going to share everything with me?"

Peter threw his napkin on the table as he stood, then he said in a very mad tone, "Fine. OK, tomorrow I'll come home, pick you up and we'll go get everything changed over. Is that satisfactory with you?" I said, "We'll see, but I am sleeping in the guest room until it is done." Peter stormed out of the dining room and I cleaned up the table and did the dishes. I took a shower and got ready for bed.

The next day, true to his word, Peter showed up and he took me to DMV, then to the bank and at last down to county records. By 3:30 my name was now on everything we owned. They even gave me a temporary debit card to use until mine came in. I felt that at least now I could grab some of his money and run. I would not be penniless, that is for sure.

I could not wait for Peter to leave for work Tuesday morning. I never left the guest room until I was sure he had left for work. I got up, went out to the den and sure enough Peter had the new supposed golf video in with the other tapes. I grabbed it and shoved it in the videotape slot, turned on the TV and stood there waiting to see what was on this tape. I watched as the TV came to life.

I saw the Paul's den as seen from the top, at an angle like there was someone standing on a landing above filming down. I did not recall any second story; I wondered how he managed to get it from that angle. The sound was horrible, the music was loud and when Peter and I walked in and met Carrie and Peters other old friends I could hear that we said something but the sound was so bad I couldn't make out what was said. We stood and talked for a bit when Paul walked up and handed me my "root beer float" I sat down on the couch to finish watching, from what I could tell this was not going to be a short film.

I watched as I drank down the "float" and as soon as it was gone, I watched as Paul took my empty glass and walked over to the bar. I watched him as he took one bottle, then another and another and another. He did this with six different bottles before he added very little Coke and less milk. He put whipped cream on top and brought it back to me. I began drinking it when we moved to the couch and chairs in the big den. I watched as I drank that drink down real fast also. I did remember how great it tasted but Paul told me there was very little alcohol in the drink when he first handed it to me, I remember that very clearly. By the third glass I was giggling, and laughing at what was being said but since the music was so loud I could not make out what was being said.

I stood and walked out; I remember I had to pee, so that must have been when I did. I watched as Paul quickly moved around the room, and all of a sudden the sound became very clear and I saw where he had placed something on the back of the couch where I was sitting. I heard him say to Peter, "I had the mike plugged into the wrong place, this should give us some good sound. I'll check it before she gets back. Sit and just talk normal."

He disappeared and I heard John say to Peter, "So she never gives you head, huh? You won't be able to say that after tonight, will you?" Peter said, "You don't know Linda. I tell you she is a fucking iceberg when it comes to anything besides just on your back give it to me and go to sleep kind of sex. Talk about missionary crap, I think she studied a fucking book on just how to make sex be as plain as possible. You'll see. I've had her drunk before and I don't care how drunk she gets, she ain't going to suck anyone's cock." The other man with them said, "Want to put some money on that, Pete? I'll bet you $50 that before you two leave here tonight she is going to not only let us stick our dicks in her mouth but she will swallow every drop of cum we give her." Peter said, "You're on. I know my wife; she just won't do it."

I sat there hearing my husband and his friends talking about me as if I was something like a car or something. I sure wasn't being spoken of as a wife by her loving husband, I was being spoken of like I was a piece of meat. I heard them all stop talking as I came back into the room. I sat down where I had been sitting and there was another drink waiting for me. Paul said, "Let's have a chug race, who's game?" Everyone, including me, said, "I am," and Paul then said, "OK, now the last to finish does the dishes. Ready, 1,2,3, GO!" Everyone raised their drinks. Some had bottled beer. Peter had a can of beer. Paul had a glass as big as mine and I looked at everyone drinking. I should say, acting as if they were drinking. I was gulping my drink down and I finished first. Watching the men and Carrie, I could see that they even hardly tried.

Everyone cheered me as I won the race. Paul got up and made me another drink and brought it back. I could tell by watching myself that I was floored. I was weaving and it looked as I might drop off the couch. The men all started talking filthy. I do not remember the black guy's name, but he said, "Man, it's been two days since I've had a piece of ass. I need my cock sucked bad." Paul said, "You know how real women are, they love sucking a man's cock, don't they, Carrie?" Carrie, who was sitting next to me, said, "I know I sure as hell do, but I love it more when a man is eating out my little pussy." Paul shouted out, laughing, "There ain't nothing little about your cunt, baby, and you fucking know it!" Everyone was laughing, including me. Carrie then asked me, "How do you like your pussy eaten, you like it soft, gentle or rough and deep?" I said, "I never had anyone go down on me. Peter wants to but I think it's dirty." Peter chimed in and said, "Oh, I've tried believe me, but Linda just wants to lay on her fucking back and do it missionary style." Carrie said, "Hell, that ain't no fun. I love sucking on a hard cock and making it shoot its load into me. Man, it is so fucking hot, I fucking love it."

I sat there and I could not recall talking to them at all, but then I was so drunk I barely remember walking to the bathroom to pee, I sure don't remember coming back. I was leaning against Carrie who was caressing my breast with her hand over my shoulder. I leaned back and Carrie slowly moved, allowing me to lay on my back on the couch. Paul said, "Call them, it's time." I watched as John picked up the phone and dialed out, I heard him say, "It's clear now, you guys can come over. Remember, you bring your own cameras and bring cash. This shit ain't free. It costs 50 bucks; no one is going to fuck her; you get to shoot pictures of her in any position, and, yes, with a dick in her mouth."