I've read a lot of stories about husbands who have slut wives, husbands who have turned their women into sluts, wives who have become sluts and rubbed their husbands nose in it, but I think my situation is unique. Over sixteen different men have fuck my wife in the last six months, but she isn't a slut - at least not in generally accepted terms.
It all started at a party to celebrate my promotion to regional sales manager. The party was thrown by my boss at his house and almost everyone I work with was there. My wife Rita loves to drink and party even though she has never been able to hold her liquor very well. Usually I keep an eye on her to try and regulate her intake, but on that night I had so many well wishers and people who wanted to talk to me that I kind of lost track of her for awhile. When I did finally catch up with her I found her passed out in an easy chair in the bosses family room. I went and found my boss and explained that I hated to be a party pooper, but I needed to take Rita home. He suggested that we take her upstairs and lay her down in the guest bedroom and so the two of us took her upstairs. The party ran on for another three hours and when it started breaking up I went upstairs to see if I could wake Rita up. I opened the door to the bedroom and turned on the light and then blinked my eyes because I didn't believe what I saw. Rita's skirt was up around her waist, her underpants were lying on the bed beside her, her legs were spread and I could see a glob of cum on her pussy hair.
Somebody had fucked my wife while she was passed out on the bed.
I got her skirt pulled down and tried to wake her up, but it was no use. I went down stairs and found my boss and got him to help me get Rita out to our car and then I drove home. I wrestled Rita into the house, stripped her and put her to bed and then I sat in a chair next to the bed. I looked at my zonked out wife and understood why someone would want to fuck her; even passed out drunk she was more desirable than half the women who had been at the party. I ran the list of guys who had been at the party through my head and couldn't come up with anyone who I thought could do such a thing. Finally I gave up trying to figure it out and went to bed. The next morning Rita woke up with a hell of a hangover and over morning coffee I asked her if she'd had a good time at the party. "I don't even remember you making love to me, but from the way my twat fells this morning we must have had a good time." If you only knew I thought, but then I quickly amended that to 'if we only knew'.
For the next two months every time I saw a guy who had been at the party that night I wondered if he was the one who had fucked Rita. When they looked at me I tried to see if I could detect anything in their eyes, something in their facial expression, anything that might tell me who it had been, but I never saw anything that gave me a clue. Gradually I put the episode out of my mind and I'd almost forgotten about it completely when John, the VP of sales, threw a barbecue at his home one Saturday. It was an all day affair that started at noon and lasted until the last person decided to leave. I cautioned Rita about her drinking, telling her we might be there for a good ten hours or so and she said she would stick to iced tea. I can usually depend on her to do what she tells me so I didn't spend a lot of time keeping track of her.
About five John's wife Mary came up to me and told me that she had put Rita in an upstairs bedroom because Rita was bombed. I immediately thought of the last party and while I thought that the last time was probably an isolated incident I decided that it wouldn't hurt to check on her frequently. I checked a good five times between five and eight and never found anything wrong. I got in a discussion with John about ISO 9000 and it was nine-thirty before I made my next check. Rita was on the bed with her tits hanging out of her blouse, skirt up to her waist, her panties were gone and cum was seeping out of her pussy.
Sometime between eight and nine-thirty Rita had been fucked.
I got her back inside her dress, swabbed her cunt as best I could with my hankie and carried her out to the car. I laid her in the back seat and went back into the party. Fifty minutes later I left the party to go home and found out that Rita had been fucked again. Her tits were out of her dress, her skirt was up around her waist and once again there was cum leaking out of her. To say that I was angry would be an understatement. Just like the last time Rita woke up the next morning with a hangover and no idea of what had happened to her the night before and once again she commented on how well I had fucked her.
"I just wish I could remember it. From the way I feel you must have fucked me at least three times. Did I get off?"
What could I say? "Yes my love, a couple of times."
Going to work the following Monday was a bitch! Someone I worked with was taking advantage of my wife and I didn't have a clue as to who it was. I studied the way the other guys were when they around me looking for something, anything that would give me a clue as to who the asshole was. I made lists and poured over them and I was able to eliminate a few - two guys who hadn't been at either party, three guys who had left the barbecue before my last check at eight - but that still left eleven guys. Eleven guys, none of whom I could believe would do such a thing. It was driving me crazy, but I was determined to find out who it was and the only way I could think of doing it was to use Rita as bait at the next party. It was a rotten thing to do to her, but I reasoned that she had already been fucked twice by another man and hadn't known it; one more time wouldn't hurt and at least I would nail the low-life doing it.
My chance came sooner than expected. That very week my boss closed a big deal and was throwing a cocktail party at his house for the new client. Rita and I arrived and the first thing I did was get Rita a drink, a double, and turn her loose. In two hours she was blotto and I asked Tom, my boss, if I could put her down in the upstairs bedroom again. For the next three hours I never took my eyes off the stairway to the second floor and nobody even went close to them, let alone up them. When it was time to leave I was a little disappointed that no one had gone upstairs, not because I wanted Rita to get fucked, but because I really wanted to know who was doing it. I went up to get Rita and found her lying on the bed with cum running out of her again.
How in the world had it happened?
I checked the windows, but they were locked from the inside. I left the bedroom and started walking around the upstairs looking for how it could have happened. It only took a minute - at the end of the hallway there was a door that opened on a set of stairs and I followed them down and saw that they led out onto a small porch. Once again I drove home angry, but determined to find out once and for all who it was that was fucking my wife. What I was going to do to the cocksucker when I caught him I didn't yet know, but the bastard was going to pay!