Purdey's Lustful Quest
Copyright© 2026 by CoryKing
Chapter 14: Gangbang Aftermath
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 14: Gangbang Aftermath - Purdey opens her marriage seeking desire and control. What begins as permission becomes obsession, power, and erotic reinvention. As intimacy turns transactional and freedom grows intoxicating, the consequences ripple through her marriage, family, and community. A provocative erotic novel about female agency, fantasy, and the cost of wanting more.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma Fa Mult Consensual Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Romantic Heterosexual True Story Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching BDSM Light Bond Rough Spanking Gang Bang Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Interracial Oriental Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Public Sex Size
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Cindy said, smiling. “I was wondering when you’d wake up.”
“What—what are you doing here?” Purdey croaked. “I thought you were staying at your sister’s.”
Cindy’s smile widened. “Change of plans.”
“The guys posted pictures of me online,” Purdey said, tears forming. “I never agreed to that. I only said you could record for yourself, privately. I need to contact someone to get them taken down—”
“Shh, don’t worry about it,” Cindy soothed, sitting beside her on the floor. “Nobody can really tell it’s you. And wasn’t it worth it? You finally got your fantasy.”
Something in Cindy’s tone made Purdey pause. “Did you—were you here last night?”
Cindy traced a finger along Purdey’s collarbone. “I might have watched from the guest bedroom. You were magnificent.”
“You watched?” Purdey pulled away, clutching the blanket tighter. “Why would you—”
“Ian wanted me to,” Cindy said simply.
“Ian?” Purdey’s blood ran cold. “What does Ian have to do with this?”
“Maybe you should ask him yourself,” Cindy suggested, straightening her robe.
“Why would I ask Ian about this?” Purdey demanded, confusion mixing with her growing dread.
Cindy examined her fingernails. “Because it was his idea to record you. He wanted to watch from another room while you played.”
“That makes no sense. Ian and I haven’t been together in months.”
“No,” Cindy agreed, “but Ian and I have.”
The room seemed to tilt beneath Purdey. “You’ve been seeing Ian? Since when?”
“Recently.” Cindy shrugged. “Since he decided he wasn’t happy with your arrangement anymore.”
“What arrangement?” Purdey’s voice came out as a rasp.
“You stopped having sex with him,” Cindy said. “He wanted more than you were willing to give. So he changed the rules.”
Purdey shook her head, trying to clear it. “I don’t understand.”
“He’s not interested in playing the cuck role anymore.” Cindy stood, tightening her robe. “He wants to be a stag with a hot wife instead. You know what that means, right?”
Purdey stared blankly.
“He wants to watch you with other men. Not from a place of humiliation, but excitement.” Cindy stretched languidly, not bothering to wipe away the fluid on her legs. “He’s been fantasizing about seeing you in a gangbang scenario. Last night was his dream come true.”
Purdey’s world tilted sideways. “No. That’s not possible.”
“Isn’t it?” Cindy laughed softly. “Think about it. Who mentioned Lloyd when you were looking for someone? Who casually brought up Uzer for your project? Who offered her house for your little gangbang? Ian left breadcrumbs. You simply followed them all on your own.”
Reality crashed down around Purdey as connections formed in her mind. Every encounter, every new experience—suggested, hinted at, but ultimately her own decisions. Ian hadn’t forced anything—he’d watched her explore from afar.
“Why?” she whispered.
Cindy knelt beside her again, brushing hair from Purdey’s face with surprising tenderness.
“Because Ian wanted to watch you transform. Ian gets really excited and performs like he never did before. It feels amazing.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing Purdey’s ear, the dim light of the luxurious living room casting long shadows across their figures. “While you were unconscious, he had sex with me right here beside you on this expensive leather sofa. He finished inside me while staring at your naked body.” Cindy said, her voice oddly gentle as she stood in the doorway, wet hair clinging to her neck, droplets glistening in the soft ambient light. Despite her fresh shower, white fluid trickled slowly down her inner thigh.
The room tilted sideways. Purdey gripped the plush oriental rug to steady herself, feeling its intricate patterns beneath her trembling fingers. “You’re lying.”
“He’s been sharing your photos with a private group. Showing off what a ‘filthy slut MILF’ his wife has become. He can’t get enough of it—stays up late scrolling through comments, getting excited hearing what other men want to do to you.” Cindy’s expression held no malice, only a strange pity as she leaned against the mahogany doorframe. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. But watching you last night in this very room ... You really got into it, he’s not lying. You were a real hot slut. I am getting wet thinking about what you could take. I couldn’t do that myself though. Ian’s size is enough for me—he’s insatiable when he gets going, completely taken over by his fantasies of you.”
Purdey scrambled to her feet, ignoring the sharp pain radiating through her body. She grabbed her dress from where it lay crumpled beside the sofa, yanking it over her head, the cold air from the ceiling vent making her skin prickle with goosebumps.
“Where are my shoes?” she demanded, voice shaking.
“Purdey, wait—”
“Where are my fucking shoes?”
Cindy pointed toward the entryway. Purdey stumbled toward them, snatching her purse from the side table.
“He loves you,” Cindy called after her. “In his own twisted way.”
Purdey whirled around. “And you? What’s your excuse?”
Cindy looked away. “I can’t get enough of his cock, its better than my husbands.”
Without another word, Purdey stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She slid into her car, hands trembling so badly she could barely insert the key. Hot tears blurred her vision as she pulled away from the curb.
The drive home passed in a haze of rage and betrayal. Each traffic light seemed to stretch into eternity. Images of her daughters flashed through her mind—Olivia with her serious brown eyes, always reading, always questioning; Lila with her bright laugh and boundless energy. Thank God they were at Ian’s mother’s for the school holidays. What would she tell them? How could she explain that their father had manipulated her, exposed her, betrayed her in ways they could never understand? The girls adored Ian, saw him as their hero. Olivia, at ten, was already picking up his mannerisms, his analytical way of looking at the world. And Lila, six, still climbed into his lap for bedtime stories. The thought of their innocent faces twisted Purdey’s stomach into knots. She would protect them from this ugliness, whatever it took.
When she finally turned onto her street, her stomach churned with dread and fury.
She flung open her front door, prepared to scream, to break things, to demand explanations.
The house was silent.
“Ian?” she called, voice echoing through the entryway.
No answer.
Purdey walked into the house, legs heavy with exhaustion and emotion. Each step felt like wading through concrete, her mind a battlefield of competing thoughts. She pushed open the bedroom door—and froze.
Lloyd lay sprawled across their bed, completely naked except for a ring of flowers encircling his erect penis. Rose petals scattered across the sheets. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket on the nightstand.
“Surprise,” he said with an uncertain smile. “Your husband arranged—”
Purdey lunged forward, ripping the flowers from him and throwing them to the floor. The petals scattered like drops of blood across the hardwood. Lloyd’s smile vanished, replaced by confusion as she straddled him roughly, her mind screaming with images she couldn’t erase.
“Purdey, what—”
“Shut up,” she hissed, guiding him inside her. Her thoughts fractured like shattered glass as she moved with violent intensity, nails digging into his chest. Every thrust was punishment—not for Lloyd, but for Ian, for Cindy, for herself. Each movement drove deeper into her rage, as if she could somehow purge the betrayal from her body through sheer force.
Lloyd tried to slow her pace, hands gentle on her hips. “Hey, easy—”
“I said shut up,” Purdey growled, increasing her tempo. Behind her eyes flashed memories, accusations, realizations too painful to examine. She wasn’t seeking pleasure but oblivion, a way to burn out the rage consuming her from within, to cauterize the wound of whatever Ian had done.
When it was over, she climbed off without a word and pointed to the door, her chest heaving, skin slick with sweat that felt like shame.
“Now it’s done, I’ve said my goodbye to you, Now get out.”
Lloyd gathered his clothes, confusion written across his face. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Ask Ian,” Purdey said, her voice hollow as an abandoned well. “Now leave.”
After the front door closed behind him, Purdey stumbled into the bathroom. She turned the shower to its hottest setting and stepped under the scalding spray. Her skin reddened instantly, but she welcomed the pain, imagining it washing away not just the physical evidence of what had just happened, but the emotional wreckage threatening to drown her.
The water couldn’t wash away what had happened. Couldn’t erase the knowledge her husband had orchestrated her sexual encounters, fabricated stories of her with strangers and then lead her in way that she would follow and ultimately gave him what he wanted. He had turned her exploration into his entertainment.
Sobs racked her body as she slid down the tile wall to the shower floor. Water mixed with tears, streaming down her face as she hugged her knees to her chest.
For nearly an hour, she remained curled beneath the spray, crying until no more tears would come. When the water finally ran cold, Purdey stood on shaky legs and turned it off.
Her reflection in the fogged mirror was unrecognizable—puffy eyes, blotchy skin, hollow expression. She stared at herself until a strange calm descended. Decision crystallized within her.
Moving with new purpose, Purdey went to the closet and pulled out her largest suitcase. She packed methodically—clothes, toiletries, important documents. Her wedding ring remained on the bathroom counter, a small circle of platinum catching the light.
She made one call—to a short-term apartment rental service she’d used for business trips. Yes, they had units available immediately. Yes, she could move in today.
As Purdey loaded her car, she glanced back at the house—the perfect suburban façade that had concealed so many lies. For a moment, she considered leaving a note. What would she say? That she was done being his unwilling subject? That she would put an end to his sharing of photos, videos, and stories about her life? That if the violations didn’t stop, there would be severe consequences? Some betrayals couldn’t be forgiven, and she was finished being manipulated.
In the end, she left nothing. Her absence would speak volumes.
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