There was a time when I thought that I was "one sick puppy." No, that's not right, I am one sick puppy, but there was a time that I thought that I was alone in my particular obsession. Then I got a computer, got turned on to the internet, and found out that there are a lot of other people out there who are just like me. My obsession? Eating my wife's pussy after she has been freshly fucked by someone else!

I wasn't always that way. I used to be a clean living, fun-loving guy, and then I did the one thing that fucks us all up - I got married. Don't get me wrong, Debbie is a great girl and I'm lucky that she chose to be my wife, but once we said, "I do," my life became a lot of "Oh no you don'ts."

I suppose it happens to all guys when they get married, but I don't understand why. Debbie and I dated for two years before we got married. She knew everything there was to know about me so she knew what she was getting, right? She made up her mind to marry me based on what I was, right? Wrong! The first thing to change was no smoking in the house. Since I don't smoke anyway you would thing that that one wouldn't bother me, but for seven years I have hosted a Friday night poker game and four of the players smoke.

That led to the second change - no more poker games. Next to go was bowling. I am an avid bowler, carry a 214 average, and at one time was considering going on the pro tour. I was bowling in three leagues plus rolling in pot games after the leagues, but I was informed that bowling was taking up to much of my time and I wasn't spending enough time with Debbie ("Honestly, you care more about that damned old bowling ball than you do me.") So two leagues and the pot games were gone.

Next on the agenda was golf; it went from twice a week to once a month, if I'm lucky. Then came the makeover. She started buying me my clothes ("You can't go around looking like that."); changed my after shave (too tart), my underarm deodorant (too sweet), and my toothpaste ("You need this one, it has whiteners").

Things got a bit sticky there for a while when she decided that we would trade in my pick up for a minivan. I put my foot down on that one and things were a bit frosty around the house for a few days. Why did I put up with all that shit? Because Debbie had the face of an angel, the body of a porn queen, cooked better than my mother (and believe me, that's saying something), made 75K a year as a systems programmer, and she was the most fantastic piece of ass I'd ever had in my life. I've found that you can overlook an awful lot if you are having your brains fucked out half a dozen times a week -or more.

That brings us to the sex part of the story. Take one man, put him on a bed and line up six women for him to fuck. Then take one woman and put her on a bed next to the man and line up six men for her to fuck. Which one do you think will wear out first? Well, that's my situation - I'm the one guy and Debbie is the six women. When we were dating we enjoyed each other two, sometimes three times a week, and then we said our "I do's" and it was like a switch was flipped to the permanently on position. Five times on our wedding night alone! At the end of our two-week honeymoon I had lost fifteen pounds. The only thing that was keeping me alive was the fact that we both had day jobs so I could go to work to rest up; if we had been independently wealthy and could have stayed home during the day I'd probably be dead by now. Debbie is a fuck machine and she wants it all the time.

My friends told me not to worry, that it would change, "In a couple of years you will be down to two, maybe three times a week, and you will be wishing you could go back to the good old days when you could get all you wanted."

That was six years ago and Debbie hasn't even come close to slowing down. And Debbie is inventive. She reads about a position and we have to try it. She read about a sex swing and now we have one in our basement. She read about a lotion that makes a man stay harder longer and now we have three bottles of it. She has fucked me in every room in the house and on every piece of furniture that we own that will hold us up. And, of course, she has her favorites. For regular intercourse she prefers doggie style, and for anal she likes for me to sit in a chair while she sits on me, and for oral she prefers sixty-nine - and that is where my obsession started.

One night she was sucking my cock while I was licking her labia and she asked me to cum in her mouth:

"I want to see what it tastes like."

So I did and she liked it. After that once or twice a week she would suck me to completion, swallow it all, keep sucking me till I was hard again, and then try to fuck my brains out. About a month after doing it for the first time she asked me if I knew what my cum tasted like and I said no. She had just finished sucking me off and swallowing my load; she spun around and kissed me and then stuck her tongue down my throat and I tasted me for the first time. It didn't do a thing for me, but Debbie got a charge out of it. The next time she sucked me all the way off she did the same thing, only that time she hadn't swallowed it all and she pushed it into my mouth with her tongue. Again, it didn't do anything for me, but it drove Debbie wild. A week later she asked me to go down on her just after I'd fucked her; I did and it was great! Coming out of her pussy my cum tasted nothing like it did when it came out of her mouth. I don't know whether it was the combination of her juices mixing with mine, or just my imagination, but it tasted great. More to the point, Debbie got enormously turned on by it; she bucked and screamed and had a tremendous orgasm and my eating her out after fucking her became a regular part of our sex life.

A couple of years went by and then one day I got hurt on the job and I ended up in a back brace for five months. As a result, our sex life came to an abrupt halt and it didn't take long before the lack of sexual satisfaction began to tell on Debbie. She got cross and irritable and pretty soon we were arguing about everything. One day about two months after the accident we had a real nasty argument and I shouted at her:

"Jesus fucking Christ! I didn't ask for this to happen. I'm suffering every bit as much as you are. Go buy yourself a big fucking dildo or a summer sausage or something and get yourself off. Just stop your goddamn bitching at me."

Debbie ran crying from the room and later that night she came to bed and hugged me and said she was sorry for being such a bitch and would I forgive here and on and on and on. What was to forgive? I knew what the problem was and it wasn't her fault, but I couldn't do anything about it.

Two days later Debbie came home from work with two shopping bags full of toys. A couple of battery operated dildos, one really long double headed one, and one I called Max the Monster. It was eleven and a half inches long, as big around as my wrist, and it had a suction cup base. Debbie put the toys to the test, especially Max, and things calmed down around the house. Another month and the back brace came off, two months of physical therapy, and the doctor gave me a clean bill of health to go back to full activities. When Debbie came home the night that I was cleared, I met her at the front door, swept her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. I put her down on the bed and started to undress.