Once a Slut...

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Cheating, Slut Wife, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Prostitution, Porn Theatre, .

Desc: Sex Story: Husband suspects former porn star wife of falling back into her wayward ways.

Nothing could have adequately prepared me for what I saw. I watched as the sexy woman on the screen was undressed by one of three men within the camera's view. The men all wore gold chains around their necks.

The woman stood naked and smiling, breasts jutting out, as the first man began to paw at her body. The other two men circled in closely and began touching and rubbing her while the intro music played. The words "Workin' on the Chain Gang Bang" flitted across the screen.

The startling realization hit me that the beautiful actress in this cheesy porn flick was indeed Jennifer – my lovely wife of just over seven years. A strange mix of fear and anger welled up within me, threatening to explode my calm demeanor.

"See – what'd I tell you, bro?" said Neil, my lifelong buddy who had delivered the offending video for me to watch.

He seemed like such a tattletale. Neil had a knack for seeking praise for distasteful events, as if he'd cooked them up deliberately and was proud of it. I was beginning to wonder why I chose to have a friend who finds joy in the misery of others.

My eyes remained fixed on the video display. Though the woman's hair was longer and darker than Jen keeps hers now, I would have known her anywhere. I noticed that the ends of her long hair curled around her nipples, occasionally obscuring them from the camera's searching view. Jen's hair nowadays was just barely shoulder length.

The actors were no longer just circling and groping Jen. They had moved her over to the bed and were stroking their erect cocks in front of her face. She quickly grabbed one in each hand and began giving them hand jobs.

The third actor awaited something more. Jen looked into the camera and then up at him. She stuck out her tongue and playfully took tentative licks at his massive pole. She then opened her mouth and took half his length down her throat. Her head began lurching back and forth, pulling his cock deeper and then shallower in her mouth.

Jen's face and body seemed gaunt as the camera captured her giving a blow job. Her skin didn't exhibit the healthy glow of our marital years. The film seemed to give her a sickly look, despite her youthful beauty.

As I watched numbly, it became obvious to me that this video had been made some time ago. Now, at age thirty-one, Jen was still lovely, but in a different way than before. Her figure had matured, with feminine curves where there had been angular breasts, skinny ass, bony hips, and a flat pelvis on the video.

The pubic region immediately below that pelvis was in the process of being violated onscreen. The men had switched positions, and Jen was giving a blow job to one of the hand job guys while the other one slurped at her pussy. The third guy, the one with the massive cock, was watching and waiting for Jen's vagina to be vacated. He stroked his cock with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other.

As the cunning linguist (in James Bond terminology) brought Jen to a writhing and screaming orgasm (or at least a simulated one), the guy with the big prick brushed him aside. He stroked his cock one more time, then pressed it against the moist flesh of Jen's labia. The camera zoomed in and caught the first penetration in slow motion, then stayed fixed on their juncture as the stud began pumping furiously in and out of Jen's snatch.

I thought I was going to throw up.

"Turn that fuckin' thing off," I said gruffly to Neil, "you've proven your point!"

Neil used the remote to switch the DVD player and television screen off. He popped the video out of the player, stuck it in its box, and handed it to me.

"I don't want it – burn the damned thing!" I shouted.

"Sorry, man – I know this must be hard," he replied.

My temples were throbbing. My teeth and hands were clenched. I felt like hitting something. I was tempted to make Neil the target, but I knew he was only trying to look after me. Or at least I thought so.

"It's okay, Neil," I said. "It's not as if I didn't know this sort of thing exists."

"You KNEW? What the FUCK, dude?" There was no disguising Neil's shock and horror. He was always as easy to read as a John Grisham novel.

"Yeah, I knew. Jen told me about her past before we were married. She said she had made some porn flicks when she was younger," I confessed.

"Then why in the hell would you have MARRIED her?" Neil demanded, the disbelief plainly displayed on his face. "Why didn't you just pork her as much as you wanted, and then move on?"

"She wasn't like that when I met her," I answered, "she had changed from the girl in that video."

"If you say so, dude," Neil offered weakly.

"I DO say so." I struggled to make myself sound believable. "She had only done the porn to earn money to save her mother's life. Her mom had leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant, but didn't have health care insurance that would cover it. Jen was only nineteen and didn't have any marketable skills to earn the kind of money that takes. At least, not more than one marketable skill..."

Neil shifted in his seat. It was obvious he was still uncomfortable. He knew exactly what skill I meant. He'd just seen it displayed onscreen.

"She made porn flicks until she was twenty-one. She'd earned enough money to pay for the transplant and was ready to quit. But more importantly, she met a woman at her mom's hospital who reached out to her day-by-day throughout the ordeal."

"So what?" asked Neil.

"So, this woman had a story to tell," I said. "She knew a lot about pain and suffering – some of it physical, some of it emotional and mental. And she talked about the need for forgiveness. It resonated with Jen. She became a born-again Christian and walked out on the porn industry."

"So did you meet her at church, or what?" queried Neil.

"No, I haven't been into the church thing or any sort of organized religious crap ever since I was a kid. I haven't really seen the need," I answered.

"So how'd you hook up with her?"

"We met at work. I was in private legal practice before I joined the bank, and she came to work as a receptionist in the law firm. I was impressed with her smile, the way she positively glowed. So I started talking to her every time I got a chance, and eventually asked her out. But we didn't 'hook up.' We never had sex until after we were married."

"What the FUCK, dude? Why buy the freakin' cow when you can get the milk free?" Neil asked with an annoying laugh. "Especially with a hot babe who knows the ropes like SHE does?"

I counted to ten to keep myself from bitch-slapping Neil. He truly didn't know what he was saying, I was sure. He didn't realize how he was twisting the knife in my gut.

I spoke slowly and deliberately enunciated each word. "She was SERIOUS about her new-found faith. Despite her past, she wasn't 'giving the milk away free.'" I wanted to add the words "you stupid mother fucker" at the end, but I resisted the temptation.

"But you said she told you about her porn background BEFORE you were married. You could have pushed the issue, gotten her in the sack for a trial run," Neil chortled, obviously convinced of his own hilarity.

"Neil, she didn't tell me until we were pretty serious," I recounted. "In fact, she waited until I proposed to her. She wouldn't accept my proposal until she told me EVERYTHING, and gave me as much time as I needed to make sure I still wanted to marry her. I think she expected me to bail on her."

"So what'd you do?" Neil asked, standing up to take a stroll around the room. He'd been a bit hyperactive ever since we were kids.

"I knew she didn't need to dangle in the wind. She needed assurance. I told her that I loved her no matter what, and that what she'd done before we met meant nothing to me. I really thought I believed it, but I guess it's always been niggling in the back of my mind."

"For good reason," asserted Neil.

I really wanted to punch him. "For more than seven years, she's given me no reason to doubt her," I said.

"But NOW you have good reason – if not from the video, surely from what I told you about where I saw her on Friday night," Neil chided.

"The video means nothing," I stated emotionlessly, although it indeed troubled me greatly, "it only confirms what Jen already told me when we were engaged eight years ago. But your story about the Pink Kitty – that's totally disturbing..."

"Yeah, like I was saying," Neil fairly chirped, a gleam in his eye, "I saw her car parked behind the Pink Kitty last night. Only girls who work there park in the back."

The Pink Kitty was one of several notorious massage parlors on our side of town. These parlors had begun to dot the shopping plazas, much to the chagrin of homeowners and school board members alike.

But they must do a booming business, I thought to myself, in order to sustain the rapid growth trajectory they've been on over the past couple of years. Exactly what their business WAS seemed shrouded in mystery. At a minimum, they provided some form of sexual release for clients, flaunting their message of "Maximum Pleasure" on their gaudy and bawdy signs. I strongly suspected they were havens for hookers, with some form of controls in place to avoid police intervention.

I couldn't imagine what Jen was doing there – or, unfortunately, perhaps I COULD imagine it. It didn't take much imagination after witnessing the video.

"You're SURE it was Jen's car, and not just one that LOOKED like it?" I asked hopefully.

"Man, I even checked the license plate. It was hers. I wouldn't steer you wrong, dude," Neil answered gleefully.

.... There is more of this story ...

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