Don't Stop Believing

by StangStar06

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Drunk/Drugged, Tear Jerker, Cheating, Slut Wife, Gang Bang, 2nd POV, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: the story of a man imprisoned by love and his eventual escape

Hi Folks,

For my first story of the new year I decided to give you guys a salad. When I started writing this story I wanted to write something in line with HueDogg's comment from a few weeks back. At the same time I've been thinking about how ny stories usually end with the guy and his new woman driving off into the sunset. I usually do that for two reasons. One is because the only time I didn't do that (Sundown part one, you guys made me write second part) and because for those of you who are in the midst of a divorce I like to give you hope that things will turn out better, I mean, you all know that they did for me, Anyway ... while I ws writing that story I read an article on the net about people who stay married even though they haven't had sex in sometimes ridiculous numbers of years. And not all of them cheat on each other either. So this story is made up of bits and pieces of lots of things. It's a salad. Don't stop believing. Mikoe the baby did her usual excellent job of making my gibberish legible. And I have to admit that I told her something thta wasn't true. The Raspberry cocoa is now our second favorite type. We like the caramel best. SS06


Almost every day I wonder how things got this bad. I'm sure that I have high blood pressure and probably a host of other diseases, that will, in the end, hasten my death. In my case, death will be a welcome thing. It has to be better than the constant pain and depression that I've lived with for the past eleven years.

My friends also wonder why. I guess it's hard for them to imagine being a prisoner for this length of time. When you look at it, eleven years is a long time to be sentenced to. Under certain circumstances, I could have been freed before this if I'd killed someone. And I haven't committed any crimes.

Sometimes, I can't help myself. Occasionally, I look at the clock ticking on the wall. I watch the minute hand and the second hand as they slowly make their circuits around the clock's face. Sometimes, I look past the minutes and seconds and allow myself to think of the time in days or weeks or months.

Once in a while, I take the long view and think about what I could have done and what my life would have been like if I'd been free.

Sometimes, as I watch the smiling face of the warden as he marches up the stairs to attend to his pursuits, I begin to wonder what my life will be like when I am no longer sentenced to serve under him. Although he isn't supposed to, I've seen him take women up to his room. I guess he has a right to have a woman every now and then, even though I can't.

It's been eleven years since I last had a woman. No conjugal visits for me. I no longer trust women. After all, it was a woman who did this to me. She took away my manhood, broke my heart and ruined my trust in women all at the same time. Of course if you ask her she always says the same thing. She says, "It wasn't her fault it was all just a mistake."

The worst thing about it is that she was supposed to be the person I'd spend the rest of my life with. She was the woman I loved more than any other person on God's green earth. She was my wife, the mother of my children and I'd always thought; my soul-mate.

My sun, my moon and my entire world centered on June. Maybe that was a bit too much responsibility to place on one woman's shoulders. It's a terrible thing to place someone that high on a pedestal and have them fall so utterly and completely on their ass.

As I drive onto the freeway off ramp, my aging but still potent 1999 Mustang GT growls a bit. The low rumble is her way of letting all of the cars around us know that though she's 14 years old and at least a couple of generations removed from the beautiful 2013 Mustang that blew by us a few miles back, she's still a beast.

Of course, she's a toothless beast since even the V6's now have more horsepower than she has, but that doesn't matter to either of us. I pat her affectionately on the dashboard and reassure her that she's still my girl.

A rare smile crosses my lips as Journey's "Don't stop believing," comes on the radio.

"Just a city boy. Born and raised in south Detroit," that's where the verse ends for me. You see, I missed that midnight train going anywhere and I'm STILL ... STUCK ... HERE.

I didn't stop believing. My belief was torn from me along with my dreams of a good life. And whenever I try to hold onto that feeling, it eludes me as I contemplate the walls of my prison. But someday, like all caged birds, I'll be free.

I sing along with Steve and the boys for a few blocks and then my temporary elation and hopes for a day when the doors to the prison swing open fade. I sigh as I turn off the engine and get out of the car.

My house is a small but well kept-up ranch in a suburb just outside of Detroit. It's not worth much money and the area isn't what it once was, but at least it's outside of the city.

Most of our neighbors envy my house, while I envy their happiness and their lives. Since I have neither of those, all of my energy goes into the house, my car and especially my kids.

I call my kids the wardens because they're the only reason I'm stuck here. I love my kids more than anything. There is nothing I wouldn't do for either of them. So enduring this is nothing.

My daughter, Melissa, is away at college and her brother, Todd, will join her in less than one more year. I smile just thinking about it, then smile again as I open the door and walk into the house.

"Hello Dell," says June, as I walk into the house. I notice that the house smells wonderful.

"I made a roast," she says. "I made it the way you like it with carrots and celery. Of course, I threw some potatoes in too, because your son loves them."

I don't even look at her as I head back into the bedroom and grab running gear out of the drawers and closet there. I change and go right back outside to run. I can't help seeing June's face as I walk past her.

"Todd is going to a friend's house to study after practice," she says. "Should I wait and eat with you or just leave you a plate in the oven?"

"Neither, please," I say without looking at her. "I'm probably not going to be very hungry."

I leave quickly to avoid further conversation. I jog down my street and nod or wave at the neighbors I pass before I get to the park. Once I enter the park, I start to run faster and pretend not to see or notice the people I pass.

An hour later, I stagger back into the house, exhausted and out of breath. I take a warm shower and microwave a slice of three day old pizza for dinner. June frowns as she watches me do it.

She showers while I eat it, washing it down with a Pepsi.

"Dell, can we please talk?" she asks. I turn to look at her.

June, even at her age, is an attractive woman; at least she is to me. But my opinion probably doesn't count because I've loved her since the first time I saw her.

As I wait for her to begin her latest futile effort, I shake my head and look at her. She's short with brown hair in a pixie cut. Her breasts aren't large but the nipples still stand straight out. She's put on a very sheer nightie and her nipples are so hard I can make out the lines and bumps on them as she stands in front of me.

I unfold the blanket that's always on the couch as she moves towards me.

"Dell, why are you still sleeping on the couch?" she begins. "It makes no sense."

"I'm sleeping on the couch because you've turned Melissa's room into an office," I said. "My plan was to sleep in there, but it just wasn't worth arguing over. Besides I'm used to disappointments and things not working out the way I want them to."

"Dell, there's no reason for you to sleep in Melissa's room when we have a room of our own. I'd never try to force you into anything, but don't you miss... ?"She paused and let out a sigh. "Dell, I'd give anything just to sleep beside you again," she tried to hide the sobs but they came out any way. "Dell, it's been ten years," she cried. "I want you so bad I could pull my hair out. Couldn't we ... just once... ?"

"June, are you out of guys to fuck?" I asked. "You're so desperate that you're hitting on me now?"

"Dell, there haven't been any guys," she sobbed. "I haven't had sex with anyone except myself since..."

"Well, that's YOUR fault," I smirked. "I've got all kinds of women after me. I'm laying more pipe than a team of plumbers. And I'm doing it all June. All of those things that you swore you'd only let ME do, that you did with..."

"Stop it Dell," she screamed. "Don't say another fucking word!"

I lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket over me. "Know why I was late getting home today?" I leered. She looked at me through her tears. "I was with Sue. She gave me the best blow job I've ever had. She licked my dick like it was an ice cream cone and she swallowed every drop when she was done. Next time I'm gonna' slurp on her pussy until my tongue falls off."

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she turned to the computer in the corner of the room. She printed out an email and handed it to me. The message detailed everything I'd done since leaving work.

"You left work at the normal time and stopped off for gas," she said. "You checked your own oil levels and went into the station to buy a quart. You put it in yourself. You drove home the long way and you sat in the driveway singing along to some old rock song," she said. There was silence for a while.

"Where's the part about this perfect blow job?" she asked. "If you want one that fucking badly all you have to do is ask. And you don't have to make things up. I'd do exactly what you wanted, exactly the way you want it. I'll do it as often as you want, for as long as you want. And if you really want to lick someone's pussy, the one you're supposed to be licking is right here."

"June, why is it that you have money for a private detective to follow me around but not enough for a divorce?" I asked.

"Because I don't want a fucking divorce," she cried. "And Jerry follows you for me occasionally, for free."

"Probably because you're fucking him too," I smirked.

"Dell, the only person I want to fuck is you," she yelled at me. "But honey, I'm going crazy. It's been too long. I..."

"I gave you permission a long time ago," I said. "I told you that you could go out and fuck anyone you wanted. Just don't being them here. Shit, have another gangbang. It's not like anything between us is going to change."

She turned and walked back into the room that used to be our bedroom. I tried to sleep but I could hear her crying until I drifted off.


June

As I lay there, crying in my bed, I ached. My body, my mind and my heart all ached, but I knew that I had only myself to blame.

My heart had ached for over ten years now. Of all the women I knew, including the other married ones; I am the only one man woman. My husband is the only man I will EVER love.

My heart ached because in a very real way, I am not with the man I love more than anything else on this planet. We live in the same house. We see each other every day. And we are still married. But he barely speaks to me. And he no longer looks at me the way he used to.

Dell used to look at me like I was the only woman on the planet or at least the sexiest one and that meant so much more than anything else to me.

I know that most women would want to scold me here and tell me that I should consider myself a mother first, a woman second and a wife last. But in my heart, the wife came first. In order for me to feel like a woman, I needed a man and the man I needed was my husband.

More than anything else, I needed love. I needed to know that that my man loved me. It meant more to me than anything else I could think of. My love for my husband, more than anything else, made me go on day after day hoping that he'd get over this.

My mind, on the other hand, told me to stay strong and stay the course. I was sure that I was making progress this time. In fact, considering all of the factors, I should have been overjoyed. Dell and I had just held a conversation of sorts. We had exchanged more than one sentence and he'd actually contributed more than just grunts or monosyllabic answers.

And most importantly of all, he had looked at me. And in that way all women have of knowing those things, I knew that he'd liked what he'd seen and that he had wanted me. My husband might not have admitted it. Perhaps he hadn't even admitted it to himself, but Dell had wanted to fuck me.

I knew the look in his eyes as well as I knew my own face in the mirror. If he'd still been the man I married, he'd have me on my back right now. I could just imagine him spreading my legs and fucking the shit out of me.

My body, of course, was the weak link in the chain. I am, after all, only human. And I suffer from all the wants and desires that all humans do. It had actually been my body that had ruined my life. When I say my body, please don't think I'm claiming to be a porn star or some sex goddess. I'm nowhere near the model type. If you're thinking tall, thin, big boobed, blond; forget about it.

I'm barely five feet tall. It would be a stretch to say I'm a B cup. And my ass is a little bit bigger than it should be. I guess my legs are a trifle thick too, but Dell worships me. Or at least he did.

Dell and I have been together for twenty years now. We'd met when I was twenty and my beloved was about to be nineteen. The first two years we'd only dated, but they were dates like none I'd ever experienced. It didn't matter where we went or when, the only thing that mattered was that we were together.

I felt more passion and more love, sitting on a park bench with Wardell Cleaver than I ever had the few times I'd been in bed with some guy trying his best to give me an orgasm. To anyone who knew me, there was no question that I'd marry Dell and bear his children. The only question was when.

We were married inside of two years, even though we hadn't quite graduated. We actually had a great life plan. We were going to graduate, become successful, then get married and have babies. The grand plan called for four children. But ... shit happens. Nowhere in the plan was it mentioned that we'd have to get married before we graduated so that our daughter wouldn't be born out of wedlock.

The plan also had no provision for both Dell and I, taking awful jobs, just to put a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. And of course, there was never any mention in the plan for the economy to take a shit and leave us barely scraping by for most of our lives.

But undaunted, we lived, we loved and we laughed at what life threw us. Once again it never mattered that we weren't rich as long as we were together. More than anything else we were happy.

A lot of our more well to do friends envied us. When they talked about the latest TV shows, we laughed. The only television we had was in the kids play room and it was a very old set. We had no time for things like that. We had a schedule to keep. Sunday nights were nights of rest for us. We lay together holding each other tightly. We exchanged only gentle kisses and we talked about our future.

On Mondays we fucked. Monday night was our raw and rough night of passion. Most of the time on Mondays, I took my panties off as soon as I got home from work. I never knew when or how Dell would take me, only that he would. Often in the summers, we had to leave the house to avoid the kids hearing what we did.

Tuesdays were oral only. I think that both of us developed our oral skills from those Tuesdays.

Wednesdays were hand-jobs only and Dell often started on me while we sat at the dinner table. Of course, that stopped when the kids got older.

Thursday nights were ladies choice nights. Dell knew that meant lots of foreplay and slow romantic love making. I think that even to this day those are the nights I miss the most. I would give anything just to have my Thursday nights back. I swear that both of my children were conceived on Thursday nights.

Friday nights were our nights for exploration and education. We'd try new things or rent porno movies and try what we saw them do. We tried role playing and bondage and spanking. We first did anal on a Friday night. Dell has ALWAYS loved my ass so that was a major milestone in his life.

Saturday nights were our no holds or holes barred nights. Absolutely nothing was off the table. We never tried a threesome or anything else that involved other people. They were simply not necessary. Sex was something for Dell and me, alone, to share.

I cry more now as I think of the mess I made of things. Once again, I need to mention that we didn't have a lot. We weren't and to this day aren't rich or even comfortable, but we were happy.

We knew everyone in our neighborhood and often had parties and get-togethers. When we'd been married for a little over seven years it all went to hell.

It started out slowly but one event built upon another to bring about our doom. Our next door neighbor was a very old woman. For the previous few years she had a series of obstacles to overcome. First her husband passed. We helped her through it but she was never quite the same. I felt sympathy for her because I knew then that if Dell ever left me, I'd be in the same boat. I would literally just waste away until I could join him.

In her case, it took a few years but it was her mind that left her first. She started seeing him everywhere and she'd even talk to him. I remember plenty of times when we'd sit on her back porch or mine and she'd suddenly begin speaking to him and even waiting for him to answer. She'd laugh and reach for him as if he was still there. Then she began forgetting all sorts of things, like where she was or even to put clothes on before leaving her house.

I was forced to contact her children and they came one day and took her away. They rented out her house and that was another domino in my disaster. At first they rented it to families. It finally was rented to a trio of college boys who held parties all the time.

Sometimes Dell and I went over to their parties and other times we partied alone. Dell was trying to get ahead at his job and had taken to working extra shifts on occasion. I couldn't complain because we needed the money, but the extra hours apart were hard on me. On one of those occasions, knowing that my kids were asleep, I went next door just to have one drink and cut through some of my angst over Dell not being with me.

It was the biggest mistake I ever made. There were at least ten or twelve beautiful young women there so I didn't feel threatened. That was another mistake. I failed to notice the subtle details. All of the men present were only drinking beer. It was the girls who were downing the spiked punch at an alarming rate. I knew the punch was spiked, but I thought that they'd only added some liquor to it for more of a bite. I was wrong.

I'd only intended to have a quick glass or two and then head home to await Dell. After all, late or not, it was a Thursday. I was already starting to feel a bit horny; more than a bit in fact. And I was also very warm. That was all I remember before I woke up in one of the beds on the second floor with three college boys humping away on me. The one in my pussy had the biggest dick I'd ever seen on a human.

I've read stories about women that they call size queens. These women seek out men with huge dicks. They seem to have orgasm after orgasm on them. Well ... those bitches are crazy. All I felt was pain. Those assholes were just using my body like a playground ride. There was no love or compassion in what they were doing. I screamed and pushed them away from me even as I regained consciousness.

"Hey baby, where ya going?" cried one of the drunken guys as I got off the bed and staggered out of the room picking up my clothing as I went. I never did find my panties but I was out of there in less than two minutes.

Unfortunately, I'd been out of it for far longer than I thought. Dell's Mustang was already in the driveway. I slipped into the house calling his name.

Earlier in the day, I'd been at another neighbor's house and she'd invited us to a party she was having on the weekend. I told my husband the first lie of our marriage. I told him that I'd been down the street instead of next door.

It was the worst moment of my life. I stood there in front of my husband as he sat on the edge of the bed in our children's room and I lied.

It didn't matter that I did it to save my marriage and our happiness, I felt awful. And even as I said the words, I looked at him and on some level I knew that he didn't believe me.

Without another word, he leaned over and kissed my daughter on her forehead as she slept. Then he did the same to her brother. He moved past me then without a word.

Dell and I were always touching each other and I hoped and prayed that just that once he didn't grab my ass. "Oh please Lord," I prayed. "I haven't been to church in the seven plus years since we got married but if you let me get away with this one..."

Dell walked right out of the room without touching me. My prayer had come true. But somehow I still felt as if I'd lost something.

"Dell, where are you going?" I asked.

"Dinner," was all he said. I felt like I'd won the lottery. I went into the bathroom and took a long, very hot shower. Luckily that night was ladies night and I had a plan. Dell loved to fuck me doggy style and that was what he'd get tonight for starters. But I would keep my legs pressed tightly together and squeeze his dick inside of me so he wouldn't be able to tell how stretched out my pussy was. After a few moments of that, I'd have him switch to my ass. The guy who'd been fucking my ass was smaller than Dell so he probably wouldn't notice.

As the warm water cascaded over me, I began to think that I might get away with it. I stayed in the shower scrubbing and douching myself until our water heater ran out of hot water. Then I put on one of Dell's old T-shirts and got into bed to wait for him.

I knew that something was funny because it never took him this long to eat if I was waiting for him; especially not on a Thursday. And that Thursday, after what those assholes had done to me, I really needed to be made love to. I didn't need to be tricked and raped. I didn't need to be gang-banged. I didn't need to be fucked. I needed to have my husband wrap his arms around me and express his love for me physically. I needed to be held and caressed and kissed by someone who treated me like I was special.

After a few more minutes, I went looking for Dell. It was funny but until I started thinking about my husband making love to me the word rape had never entered my thoughts. But that really was what had happened to me. It hadn't been my fault. Those assholes had drugged me and taken advantage of me. They deserved to be prosecuted and go to prison. Unfortunately, I wasn't in a position to do that.

Doing that would reveal to my husband not only that I had lied to him, but that I had left our children alone so I could go to a party. There was also the fact that I was a thirty year old woman, not a young college girl; and I knew what went on at those parties next door. I'd also promised Dell that I wouldn't ever go over there without him.

Any revenge on the assholes next door would have to be done in a way that Dell never caught wind of what I'd done. My marriage meant more to me than getting revenge for a temporarily sore pussy. Besides, they hadn't hurt me. All they'd really done was to warm me up for what I was about to get anyway.

As I looked through the house, I was surprised to find that Dell hadn't touched his dinner. I finally found him in the kids' playroom. He was curled up on the floor watching TV. That alone was odd. Neither of us watched TV.

"Honey, are you coming to bed?" I asked.

"I'll be there in a minute," he said. His voice sounded robotic. He sounded like one of the characters in the movies who've been taken over by pod people. "I'm watching..." his voice trailed off and I realized then that he didn't even know what he was watching. He wasn't actually watching TV. He was just staring at the screen while his mind was somewhere else.

He did follow me to our bedroom and start taking off his clothes. He took a shower, I guess. I don't think he even noticed that the water wasn't hot. And I suppose that I was too busy worrying about my own concerns to notice the pattern in his odd behavior.

Of course, now I can see that he was simply doing whatever he could to avoid me, but then all I wanted was to make it through the night. I kept thinking that if I could just keep going until morning everything would be fine.

We finally got into bed and his skin was ice cold. He also had boxers on. I don't remember him ever sleeping with anything on.

"Dell, take those things off," I said smiling. I moved over to him and took his dick in my hand. That moment shattered me. It's like when you reach down and take out your iPhone. You gently press the button on top of it, ready to be connected to your loved ones, or your friends or the world, through the internet. Then you look down and have that sinking feeling as you discover that your iPhone, the miraculous piece of technology that does so much ... doesn't work!

You feel strangely cut off, not just from a stupid phone but from everything. You feel like one of your limbs has been damaged. That was how I felt. We'd been together for ten years and that was the first time that my touch failed to arouse my husband.

Normally if I looked at Dell cross eyed he got a hard-on. I could bump against Dell when he was delirious with a fever and he'd want to fuck me. It was really bad when he was sick and physically couldn't do it, because he still got the hard-on.

I looked at him in shock. "Sorry, I'm just not in the mood tonight," he said.

My mind split open. Differing areas of my brain were all trying to focus on different aspects of the situation. On one hand, if Dell didn't want sex, if we could take just one night off, I was in the clear. On another hand, I really needed to be in his arms. I needed reassurance that I was still loved and cherished and not a whore or a piece of meat like the assholes had made me feel like. And yet another piece of my consciousness wondered why, for the first time in our marriage, my husband did not want to have sex with me.

Instead of working together as a cohesive unit, the different areas of my brain fought for dominance, so I was never able to put all of the pieces together. Instead of a competed puzzle, I was left with all of the pieces.

The next day my sister came over to visit me. We talked about our parents and our significant others and other things that sisters talk about. But after a while she just came out and asked me point blank.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked. "Don't tell me, Ward was a little hard on the beaver last night, right?"

"His name is Dell," I said. "He hates to be called Ward."

"Jeez Sis," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't know this was so serious. But the way you guys go at it is crazy."

"Not last night," I said.

She laughed at me then. "Is that all that's wrong with you? Are you a nympho or something sis?"

"It's never happened to us before," I said. She looked at me like I was crazy.

"Damn girl, you should be glad to have a night off. Nobody fucks every night. Shit, you guys have been together for ten God damned years and you're still going at it like newlyweds. Listen dumbass, the average married couple fucks from one to three times a week. You're getting more than twice that. It isn't unusual for things to get a bit stale from time to time. Go out and buy some lingerie. Talk dirty to him over the phone while he's at work. In no time at all he'll be fucking you like his own personal sex toy again."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive," she said. "Mary goes off on a bender and we sometimes don't have sex for a few weeks. Then I'll bend over to get a pot out of a low cabinet and she'll drag me off to the bedroom and fuck me until neither of us can move. There are always going to be ups and downs in your sex life."

I felt a lot better when she left. Dell came home and spent some time looking through his American Muscle catalog. Whenever he caught them on sale he always bought performance parts for his Mustang. That always cheered him up. Well, usually it did. Not that night. After a week without sex, I was beginning to worry. After two weeks, I was climbing the walls. And it wasn't just the lack of sex. Dell didn't grab my ass anymore, he rarely kissed me and even then it wasn't on the lips. Even in bed at night, he didn't hold me or cuddle with me while we slept.

I kept asking him what was wrong, but he just said that he was fine. I was sure he wasn't. In fact, the only reason I could think of that he didn't want to fuck me was that he was fucking someone else. I needed to know who she was so I could kill the bitch and get my husband back. There was no thought in my mind about divorcing him or anything like that. I just wanted him back. Dell and I were forever. Everything else was just in the way.

I work as a stenographer in a very large legal firm. The firm has a lot of PI's and investigators on retainer. I'm pretty friendly in a totally non-sexual way with most of the people who work for us. I decided to ask one of the guys if he could spend some time tracking my husband.

After three weeks he reported back to me. He'd followed Dell every day during that three week period, except for when he was doing work for the firm or the weekends when Dell was home with me.

He hadn't seen even a hint of impropriety. Not only was Dell not cheating on me, he didn't even engage in any harmless flirting around the office. I'd known that he wasn't but it hadn't hurt to confirm my suspicions. I'd noticed that the only time that Dell seemed to come out of his funk was when he was around our kids. When it was just him and the kids, he was still the same old Dell that we all knew and loved. So obviously, the problem lay elsewhere.

Another week passed and I realized that we hadn't had sex in six weeks. I began to get angry then. First I just laid into him and asked him what was going on.

"Dell, Honey what's going on?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Then why haven't we had sex in six fucking weeks?" I asked.

"Maybe we're in a slump," he said.

"Is there anything I can do to get us out of the slump?" I asked.

"Not that I can think of," he said. He walked away even though the conversation wasn't over. I thought about everything that had happened lately but somehow the incident next door didn't come to mind because I was sure he hadn't known about it.

I went to Dell's doctor and told him about the problems. He immediately gave me some samples of both Cialis and Viagra. He told me to have him try both and see which one worked better for us.

I left them on Dell's dresser and told him to take one before we got into bed that night. He looked at the packages and laughed crazily for over twenty minutes. Then he went to bed.

The next day I told him that he didn't have to be embarrassed about his little problem.

"I've read articles about it, honey. It happens to most men at some time or other," I said.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"You know, your uhm ... erectile dysfunction," I whispered.

He started laughing again and wouldn't stop.

"Dell, this isn't a laughing matter," I said. I was getting angry.

"If you don't have ED isn't there something you want to tell me?" I asked.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked right back.

"I've been kissing your ass for almost two months now," I screamed. "I'm trying to figure out why you've been treating me like shit. I haven't done anything to deserve it."

His face hardened and it scared me. In all of our years together, Dell had never once lost his temper over anything between us. And he covered it up well, but I knew that he was definitely angry at me for something.

As usual, he didn't want to get into a shouting match so he just walked away and left me screaming at him as he did.

For the next few days I put even more scrutiny on Dell. In fact any time he went anywhere alone in the house, I showed up. If he closed a door, I opened it and went in to see what he was doing.

I didn't find shit. He wasn't looking at porn; not that I'd have minded since we often did that together or at least we used to. Then I made a discovery in a very sneaky way. Dell and I had one of those nanny cams that look like a teddy bear. I left it in our room while Dell was taking a nap. I told him I was going out shopping and he just grunted. I waited about thirty minutes and went back into the house. I opened the door to our bedroom and found Dell looking at our wedding album.

I always got home a couple of hours before Dell did so I checked the nanny cam before he got home the next day. While the kids were out playing in the yard, I looked at the footage of what their father had been hiding from me and it made me cry.

My husband, like a lot of men, was masturbating. The thing that was so bad about it was what he was using to stimulate himself. He was using pictures of me. I just didn't understand it. Why would he all of a sudden prefer to jack off than fuck his own willing wife? Obviously there was no question that he found me attractive. God if I wasn't so horny, I'd find it flattering. The problem was that Dell was angry at me for some reason and he wouldn't tell me what it was.

We got into the second biggest fight of our marriage that night. And yes I did it on purpose. I hoped that I could get him angry enough that he'd spill or just let slip what he was so angry about. He didn't.

I took the next day off from work. I still took the kids to school and day care but I was too stressed out to work. I needed to solve the problems in my marriage before I went crazy. I always thought more clearly when I cleaned or did house work. I was working on my garden when it happened. One minute I was down on my knees in the dirt pulling weeds and the next I was turned around to see where the whistle had come from.

I looked straight into the eyes of one of the guys who had raped me. It wasn't the one with the huge dick, but it was one of them. We weren't actually friendly enough to even know their names.

"I guess I wasn't as drunk that night as I thought," he said.

I turned back to my weeding.

"That ass is spectacular," he said. "How come you haven't been back?"

"Like I'd actually come over there and let you rape me again," I spat.

"That wasn't rape," he said. "You liked it and as soon as you told us to stop, we did."

"I didn't like it," I said. "I was drugged out of my mind."

"Damn, we should have told you not to drink the punch," he said. "Everybody who comes to our parties knows to only drink the punch if they want to get laid. I'm really sorry about that."

He seemed so sincere about it. And we kept talking that afternoon. I ended up telling him that I wished I had some of that punch to give my husband. Even as I said it, I realized that it was the perfect answer to my problem. I could spike Dell's drink and let it make him do what he should be doing anyway. It wouldn't actually be rape. They always had a hard time proving that a husband had raped his wife whenever those things came up in court. The husbands always claimed that the wives weren't fulfilling their conjugal duties and that was how I felt about what Dell was doing. It just didn't make sense. Why the hell would a healthy man jack off to my pictures but not touch my pussy for over two months?

"Can you give me some of that stuff?" I asked.

"Well... ," he began. " ... It's kind of expensive. But maybe we can make a deal."

I knew that it was wrong from the beginning. But I couldn't take another two months without my husband. This time there'd be no chance of anything going wrong. This time we'd be in my house. I drew the drapes in the living room and we went in through the back door so no one would see him coming over. He wanted to fuck me. But I told him that was out. I'd give him a hand-job and let him look at my ass and maybe feel it, but that was all.

As soon as we got into the living room, he sat down on the couch.

"Pull those jeans down," he said thickly. I did and his eyes got huge.

"Shake that fat ass baby, shake it," he said.

"Where's the stuff?" I asked. He pulled a tiny vial out of his pocket. He held it up and then put it back. I had to have it. As I watched, he pulled his pants down too. His dick was tiny. I couldn't really give him a hand job. It was more like a finger job. He enjoyed it though. He started humping his hips then he pushed my hands away and started jacking off.

"Don't you want me to finish you?" I said.

"Get on your hands and knees and shake that fat ass," he said. I did what he wanted, but I couldn't believe that he was getting off on looking at my ass. I thought that only Dell liked it.

Just realizing that he was that turned on turned me on too. Before he got much further I crawled over to him and I couldn't help it I started sucking his tiny dick. While I did it he squeezed my boobs and my fire was lit. Two months without sex and I couldn't wait anymore. There were no drugs involved. I was just imagining Dell fucking me the way he would when I drugged him. I didn't really see a difference between what Dell was doing with my pictures and what I was doing while imagining that this dumb assed frat boy was my husband. Most of all, I needed that vial that he had in his pocket so I could get the real thing.

He pushed me back onto the rug and my legs spread by magic. He pushed his dick into me and I barely felt it. I had to rub my own clit to get me going while he grunted and humped away. I remembered those grunts then. He'd been the one who'd fucked me in the ass two months before. Strangely enough, it all became clear then. The rape next door had happened two months ago. I suddenly realized that you could see into the house next door from some of our bedrooms if they didn't close their curtains.

Could Dell possibly have seen what happened to me and gotten the wrong idea? The more I thought about it, the more it seemed likely. I had to call him so we could talk about this. I needed to make him understand what had gone on.

I cried out and pushed the sweating man off of me with strength I never knew I had. "Get off of me," I screamed.

There's a thing called Murphy's Law. I don't remember the exact phrasing of it, but the gist of it is that whatever can go wrong; will go wrong and at the worst possible time.

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