Subject:	REPOST: The 4th Ring 1/3 (wife)

From:	FDDH53D@prodigy.com (Hunter Jackson)

Date:	4 Apr 1996 22:49:08 GMT



THE FOURTH RING



Copyright 1995 Hunter Jackson	





	A typical Friday.  Too many deadlines, too many phone calls, too many 

emergencies.  Although a few of these deadlines and emergencies were the 

result of my representation of Contrax Industries, I was still looking 

forward to lunch with Contrax's president, Rick Robertson.  While Rick 

always attended to business, he was also a bit of a "rounder", and damn 

proud of it. Given my rather staid sexual relationship with my wife, Anne,

 I enjoyed living vicariously through Rick's exploits.

	This lunch fit the normal pattern.  Rick and I spent the first 45 

minutes analyzing and dissecting the antitrust implications of a possible 

acquisition by Contrax.  After beating that dead horse one last time, 

Rick ordered us a couple of Absolut Citron's with soda and embarked on a 

recounting of his latest conquests.

	"Married pussy!" Rick exclaimed.

	"What do you mean, Rick?"  The non-sequitor confused me.

	"Married pussy is the easiest, hottest, wettest pussy in the world."

	"Rick, as a married man, I can speak with some experience and certainty 

on this subject. Married pussy is anything but easy, and rarely hot or 

wet." My reply was authoritative, but in retrospect I led with my chin on 

this one.

	"Bill, for such a smart lawyer who charges $350 an hour, you are a total 

dumbshit."

	I like Rick, but he also is a bit abrasive and arrogant. Sometimes he 

can really push my buttons.

	Rick continued, "when I speak of married pussy, I'm talking about 

fucking pussies that are married to other men.  More times than not, a 

married woman is dying for a thorough fucking from a real man, not just 

the weekly ten minute diddle they are used to from their husbands."

	"Well, I imagine that there are some dissatisfied wives out there, but 

as your friend and attorney, I strongly advise against propositioning 

married woman.  You'll end up with, at least a bruised cheek from her 

slap and, at worst, excruciating pain from her knee to your groin."

	Rick chuckled, but quickly dismissed my cautions. "Bill, you don't even 

have a clue.  In the past three months, I have approached eight different 

married woman, and I'm batting a thousand. I've concluded that there 

isn't a married woman out there, who given the opportunity, would turn 

down a sexual romp with a good-looking man."

	"I don't know what world you've been living in, Rick, but I suspect that 

if you approached any of the married women that I know your batting 

average would quickly drop to the point that you would be sent back down 

to the minors."

	"Like who?"  Rick stared at me confidently.  

	I was totally dumbfounded.  I didn't expect to be challenged on this 

point. My mind went blank so I tried to avoid the question. "Look, Rick, 

you know damn well that there are so many frigid wives living in the 

suburbs that your theory can't hold water."

	"Who?" Rick wasn't going to let the question slide.

	My mind was slowly starting to reason again. I didn't really want to 

give Rick the names of any of the married women that I know. Rick's the 

type of guy who jumps at every challenge. I certainly didn't want him 

hitting on the wives of any of my friends. Common sense suggested that 

the safest thing to do was rely on my wife, Anne.

	Anne and I have been married for twelve years, with two kids to show for 

the venture. Anne is not exactly frigid, but she is also rather 

conservative when it comes to sex. Pretty much straight intercourse, with 

very rare oral sex, and certainly no anal. From the perspective of 

frequency, we will usually have sex 3 or 4 times a month. I knew that 

Anne would never stray. In fact, she was a virgin when we married.

	"Well, Rick, like my wife, for example.."

	Rick smirked.  "You mean Anne?"

	Rick had met Anne at a few business functions. Ceertainly, nothing 

untoward occurred. Anne is always the epitome of propriety.  Not that she 

isn't strikingly beautiful, but she masks her 5 foot, five inch, 115 lbs. 

frame and 35-21-36 figure in expensive and conservative attire.  One of 

my unspoken complaints has always been that Anne's delectable ass is 

never displayed in a manner befitting its magnificence. Of course, her 

dark brown, shoulder length hair is always perfectly coiffed and frames 

her high cheek-bones, porcelin skin and full lips.

	"Bill," Rick shook his head in a condescending fashion, "do you really 

think for a moment that Anne hasn't fucked around on you?"

	Not wanting to give any credence to Rick's outrageous suggestion, I 

tried to remain composed when I confidently replied, "I know she has 

never cheated and would never cheat. That's why your hypothesis about 

married pussy is fatally flawed."

	"Well, Bill, if Anne hasn't taken on any other men, it's only because 

she has never been presented with the right opportunity."

	"Sure, sure, Rick,whatever you say..." My cynical response only served 

to heighten Rick's competitive nature.

	"Look, I'll prove it to you if you doubt me...but its got to be a fair 

test. You can't purposefully intervene or interfere. You just give me a 

reasonable chance to prove my point without letting Anne know that's 

something's up, I'll admit I'm wrong if I fail. Hell, I'll even let you 

handle drafting the Berringer contract at double your hourly rate."

	It sounded like a deal to good to be true. I'm sonewhat ashamed to admit 

it, but I really wanted the Berringer contract, and double my hourly rate 

would pay for a nice ski vacation. Yet, I recognized that Rick is a 

shrewd man. "What happens if your right?" The lawyer in me always tries 

to weigh all the variables.

	"See, your already afraid that I'm right! A second ago, you thought I 

was full of shit....I'll tell you what I'll make it an easy wager. If I'm 

right, you agree not to interfere and let what ever happens to happen. OK?"

Less than enthusiastically, I said "Deal."

	For some unexplainable reason, I looked at Anne differently that night 

as she emerged from the shower. I wondered how she would react to Rick 

coming on to her. I wondered whether her nipples would become erect in 

response to his flirting, whether her pussy would involuntarily lubricate.

 As I daydreamed about the possible scenarios, I suddenly imagined Anne 

naked, laying on her back, her legs spread wide, bucking her pelvis 

wildly to meet the thrusts of Rick's invading cock. Certainly, I had 

never witnessed such a scene when Anne and I make love. It dawned on me - 

as these illicit thoughts cluttered my mind - that my own dick was hard 

beyond any normal erection.

	That night I attacked Anne with a fervor. I wanted to reassure myself of 

my potency. But, Anne reacted as always, reservedly and in control. Even 

though I fucked her with what I thought was superhuman intensity, she 

laid there, moving slowly, waiting for me to finish. At the ordained 

moment, Anne reached up and began to fondle my balls and the sensitive 

skin between my scrotum and asshole. Anne knows that this sensation 

always sends me over the edge. Even though I desparately wanted to hold 

off until her belly rippled with an orgasm, the sensation was too great, 

and at the last moment, the image in my mind returned to Rick slamming 

his dick into Anne's cunt. I climaxed violently and collapsed. With her 

normal grace, Anne slipped out from under me and rolled over to go to 

sleep. Yet, for me, these unsettling images continued, until I too fell 

into a deep sleep.

	For the next week, I continued to be haunted by these perverse images of 

Rick and Anne in the throes of all varieties of sexual couplings. I found 

myself masturbating with a fervor that I hadn't known since adolescence.  

Of course, Anne was oblivious, remaining the picture of propriety. 

Perhaps fortunately, I didn't have occasion to speak with Rick during 

this timeframe, either. the situation began to take on the hazy quality 

of a wicked nightmare.  That is, until a local charitable cocktail party.



	It was a typically staid affair, with all the frigid wives parading in 

their diamonds and designer duds. The husbands, with their fat wallets 

and brokerage accounts, sucked down fine whiskey while sharing off-color 

jokes about their bimbo secretaries.

	Anne was in her element. She was dressed impeccably in a black, backless 

number bearing some French designer's moniker. Actually, it was rather 

unusual for Anne, for it displayed her cleavage and a healthy dose of leg.

 Of course, Anne had a unique way of looking classy and not the least bit 

sensual.

	After a couple of vodka and tonics, I was startled by Ricks booming 

voice. It  was quite a surprise since Rick normally eschewed these 

suaree's.  "More boring than trolling for babes at a convent," I remember 

Rick once saying.

	"Rick, what the Hell are you doing here?"	

	"Bill, you cynical bastard! I'm here because I care deeply about the 

very same things that everyone else here cares about"

	"Oh, and just what would that cause celeb be, eh Rick?"

	"Something about irradiating the Bosnian, homosexual humpback whales, I 

think." Rick smirked, and in a sotto voice said: "You know, Bill, I've 

changed my take on these society bashes. While I still believe that the 

vast majority of pussies present haven't had a good ploughing in the last 

decade, I've concluded that this fact presents someone like me with 

endless possibilities."

	"God, Rick, you are such a complete predator!" I replied.

	With that comment, Rick glanced over towards Anne, who was engaged in 

some banal conversation with the hostess of the party, and remarked: "So, 

speaking of cunts yearning to be filled, how's our little girl, Bill?"

	Flushed with anger and indignance, all I could muster was: "Fuck you, 

asshole!"

	"Now, now, Ricky boy, remember our wager. Besides you're so confident 

about Anne's fidelity that there's nothing to worry about, right?"

	With that, Rick made a beeline towards Anne.  On the one hand, I felt 

like intervening. On the other, I truly wanted the vindication of Anne 

spurning Rick's base advances. In the end, I drowned my indecision in 

more vodka and tonics.

	As the evening wore on, my stomach felt oddly queasy. This feeling was 

exacerbated every time I lost sight of Anne. Yet, throughout, I could not 

ignore the aching in my balls. 

	To my frustration, Rick had succeeded in cornering Anne into a long one 

on one conversation. This was quite surprising since Anne was notorious 

for her ability to work a crowd. Many times, people would come up to Anne 

and apparently interject themselves into the conversation. Normally, Anne 

would use the interruption as an opportunity to move on. At the very 

least, Anne would always graciously welcome the new party into the 

discourse. Yet, on this evening, Anne's body language caused the 

interlopers to move on after only a comment or two, leaving her and Rick 

to themselves.

	Finally, the event was coming to an end, and the caterers began to pack 

up. Anne remained clearly in sight, and fully clothed, albeit in 

conversation with Rick. At last, I felt a sense of relief and victory, as 

Anne left Rick and walked over to me. My elation was short-lived, however.



	"Honey, I don't feel like calling it a night yet. Rick's invited us to 

join him for drinks and dancing at a club. What do you say, it'll be fun, 

especially after you've had to put up with this boring purgatory for 

hours."

	I had no choice but to agree. I certainly couldn't beg off and tell that 

I had wagered her fidelity for some good billable work. Likewise, I would 

be breaching the deal with Rick if I interfered.

	"Sure, honey, that sounds great." While I was less than enthusiastic, I 

rationalized away the risk that Rick might actually succeed. After all 

Anne had done nothing improper, yet.

	Perhaps ill advisedly, I had more vodka and tonics when we reached the 

club. The dim lights and smokey air of the club further clouded my self 

induced alcoholic haze. The loud music also rang in my ears and distorted 

the conversation.  Rick had strategically sat next to Anne in the booth, 

relegating me to the other side of the table. My inability to make out or 

participate in the dialogue heightened my paranoia.

	Rick was chatting up Anne with aplomb, and had even manuvered his arm 

around her shoulder. When it came time for dancing, I was in no condition 

to spell Anne from Rick's devious onslaught. Putting aside my agreement 

not to intercede, my cordination was completely shot from the drinking.

	At first, it was fast dancing, leaving Rick little opportunity for 

bodily contact. However, late in the evening, the music slowed and Rick 

pressed himself close to Anne. My senses may have been dulled, or my 

paranoia rampant, but I could swear that I saw Anne gring her belly into 

Rick's bulging groin. Maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself, but as I 

downed my n-teenth vodka and tonic, I began to visualize illicit pictures 

of Rick fucking Anne ferociously with Anne bucking back like a thousand 

dollar slut.

	Rick and Anne had, meanwhile, danced their way to the most remote and 

dark corner of the dance floor. Again, my perceptions might not have been 

acute, but I am sure I saw Rick and Anne engaged in a never ending, 

french kiss while Rick slowly stroke her ass and fondled the sides of her 

breasts.

	Blessedly, closing time finally arrived. As we staggered to the door, I 

surrendered to Anne the keys to the car. Rick said something about a 

nightcap at his place and, for an instant, my heart stopped. But, for 

some reason, Anne declined. I poured myself into the leather passenger 

seat of our BMW. Before Anne got in she said "Ooops, just a second I 

think I left something in the club."

	I was able to watch Anne in the passenger rearview mirror as she walked 

back to the club. But, she didn't go in. Instead, she went up to Rick as 

he was unlocking the door to his Mercedes. Again, they kissed...not very 

long though. I could see Anne and Rick exchange brief words. With a sly 

smile, Rick placed his hand on Anne's right tit as she turned to walk 

back to the car.

	Anne made a little small talk on the drive home, but her thoughts were 

clearly elsewhere. Although my cock was turgid all evening long, the 

alcohol caused me to elect sleep over a desparately needed fuck once we 

got home. Yet, during the night, I slept fitfully, awakening often. At 

least twice, I heard Anne breathing heavily and the rhythmic sound of her 

hand vigorously at work between her legs.

	The next day, Rick called and invited me to lunch. I hoped that he would 

simply take pleasure in the fact that he had groped my wife, and let the 

"wager" drop. But, this hope was dashed almost immediately.

	"Billy boy! How're you feeling after all that booze. Probably not as 

good as I was "feeling" last night, if you catch my drift."

	The sinking feeling in my stomach again sank in, and I could actually 

feel my manhood shrink.

	"Look," I implored, "why don't we just call the bet a draw"

	"No go, Billy. That wouldn't be very sporting. Especially after all my 

hard work. But, I'll tell you what: Let me try to ask Anne out alone just 

once. If she turns me down, I yield the point."

	"Okay. It's a deal." I reluctantly agreed, believing that Anne would 

never risk being seen alone, in public, with Rick.

	Rick was smirking like a cat with canary feathers hanging out of its 

mouth.

	"What the hell are you smiling about!"

	"Well, Bill, I forgot to share one little fact before you agreed: I 

already asked and Anne accepted. We're going out tonight."

	I felt as if I was going to implode. That morning, Anne had asked for me 

to watch the kids because she was going to have a girl's night out with 

her best friend, Kathy. We had allowed one another "night's out" since 

our last child was born as a method of preserving our sanity. I never 

dreamed that Anne might use this arrangment to fool around on me. Of 

course, Rick could be bullshitting me. I'll never put that above him.

	"Tell you what Bill," Rick continued, "at the end of the evening I'll 

give you a call to let you know that Anne's on the way home. Just to make 

it interesting, I'll let the phone ring once if nothing happens, twice if 

she only allows a little petting like last night, three times if she 

blows me, and four rings if she is well fucked."

	When I got home that evening, Anne was busily getting ready to go out. 

But, she didn't act or dress any differently than on other occasions. I 

rationalized that Rick was simply torturing me, and that Anne was going 

out with Kathy.

	"On the way out the door, Anne gave my her traditional peck, and said: 

"Kathy and I are going to catch that new French film and maybe go out for 

dinner and drinks afterwards. It's a three hour movie, so I'll probably 

be late... no need to wait up."

	Initially, ignorance was bliss. I chose to disregard Rick's boastfulness 

and, instead, trust Anne's honesty. Yet, once I put the kids down, my 

mind began to wander. A combination of jealousy and uncertainty gnawed at 

my brain. But, at the same time, I felt bad about doubting Anne.

	By 10:30 PM, my stomach became unsettled in the same fashion as the 

night before when Anne and Rick were on the dance floor. By 11:30 PM, my 

paranoia overcame reason and I thought about ways to confirm Anne's 

fidelity.

	So, in a very sophomoric manner, I called Kathy's telephone number. 

Embarrassed, I almost hang up after the second ring, but then a groggy 

voice answered "hello". It was unmistakably Kathy's voice, and it sounded 

as if I had awakened her from a deep sleep. Flabbergasted, I set down the 

receiver without saying a word.

	To my ironic dismay, I had proven that I wasn't paranoid. Anne was out 

with Rick.

	As midnight eased into the early morning hours, my mental imagery was 

torture. I would alternate between fantasies of Rick fucking Anne in all 

different positions, with fantasies of Anne resolutely turning down 

Rick's advances, saying "No, I'm a married woman!"

	Tellingly, my cock was rock hard as I imagined Rick ploughing into 

Anne's pussy. With guilty perversion, I stroked myself to an incredible 

orgasm, which brought on sleep.

	Suddenly, I awoke with the sound of the telephone. I looked at the clock;

 it was 2:26 AM! It seemed like an eternity before the phone rang for a 

second time. I quickly rationalized that Anne had already engaged in a 

heavy petting session with Rick, so this second ring should not be that 

surprising. But, just then, the phone rang for a third time. The shock of 

the thought of Anne sucking on Rick's dick staggered me. I waited with 

dreaded anticipation, wondering if the caller had hung up.

	BBBRRRRIIINNNGGG! The fourth ring pierced through the darkness of my 

bedroom. Instantaneously, my cock erupted in another climax without the 

aid of manual stimulation.

	There I laid in the dark. My belly covered with my own cum. The phone 

hadn't rung a fifth time. Yet, I still wondered whether Rick was 

intentionally torturing me. After all, this was hardly evidence that Anne 

had succumbed to Rick's seduction. At most, it merely suggested that Rick 

and Anne had been together. While their being together was not 

particularly comforting, it certainly didn't prove infidelity.

	So, I waited for Anne to get home.

Continued in part 2







THE FOURTH RING - PART 2	



Copyright 1995 Hunter Jackson	



She arrived about fifteen minutes after the fourth ring of the telephone.

Anne slipped into the bedroom without turning on the light. Apparently,

she thought I was asleep and I didn't disabuse of the notion. She seemed

somewhat unsteady on her feet, perhaps the result of a little too much

alcohol. Unfortunately, it was too dark to make out anything more than

her silhouette as Anne discarded her clothing into the hamper. Nude, she

made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. I was a bit surprised

to hear the shower since Anne normally showered in the morning. But, it

did afford me an opportunity to inspect her dirty clothes.

	At first,  I noticed nothing abnormal other than the smell of smoke that

garments always collect in restaurants and nightclubs. Of course, I

didn't want to turn on the light so my inspection was hampered. When I

retrieved Anne's panties from the hamper, I felt an obvious wetness. In

fact, the crotch was thoroughly sopping. Instinctively, I brought the

soiled panties to my nose. The aroma was striking. While I immediately

recognized the feminine smell of Anne's sexual lubricants, there was some

other smell even more evident. It was a familiar, pungent aroma ...it was

the same fragrance that I smelled twenty minutes earlier when my balls

spewed my second load of the night.

	Oddly, these mixed remnants were not in the least bit offensive. I

slipped the panties into one of my drawers for further examination in the

daylight hours.

	When Anne exited the bathroom, she had already turned out the light so

again my vision was impaired. But, she did walk as if she had just

finished a 15k road race. Anne slipped a white nightgown over her head

and climbed into to bed.

	There was no effort by Anne to make physical contact with me. Instead,

she rolled over on her stomach with her face away from me towards the

wall. Within seconds, I could hear the sound of her deep breathing as if

she was already in REM sleep.

	I didn't want to wake her, but my curiosity persisted. After about

thirty minutes, I extracted my pen light from my bedstand and flicked it

on under the covers. Anne's nightgown had ridden up, fully exposing her

legs and ass. Just then, she moved her right leg giving me a clear view

of her pussy from behind. I was amazed by what I saw.

	Anne's labia were swollen and pink. In the place of her normal little

slit was a gaping opening where I thought I could see all the way up her

vagina to the cervix. There were no apparant fliuds; she must have

cleaned and dried herself in the shower.

I marveled at the sight. It was something I had never even seen, not even

on our wedding night. I could only imagine the size of the organ that

must have done this damage to Anne's womanhood. I certainly wouldn't be

enjoying the pleasures of Anne's tight cunt for some time, if ever again.



	Approach avoidance.  In the morning, while Anne slept, my feelings

alternated between abject depression and wanton lust. Fortunately, when I

began to slip in the abyss of bemoaning the fact that Anne had been

unfaithful, I pulled out Anne's panties. The negative thoughts dissipated

as my erection grew. The fluids had dried into an obvious yellowish stain,

 but the odor remained unmistakable. I found the aroma intoxicating.

	I found myself masturbating frantically in the bathroom as I held Anne's

soiled panties pressed to my nose. As I came, I knew that this intense

sexual experience was addictive, and not one easily dismissed.

	Yet, as I drove to work the depression began to set in. My self-esteem

was suffering from being cuckholded.

	A little after 11 AM, my secretary buzzed in to let me know that Rick

Robertson was on the line. I knew that this call would come, but my heart

began to race nonetheless. Surprisingly, Rick said nothing about the

night before, instead concentrating his comments on my draft of the

Berringer contract. He then suggested that we get together for lunch to

discuss some of the deal points.

	I felt strangely uncomfortable around Rick at lunch. Every time he

looked at me, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering how he

had fucked Anne last night? Was he wondering what kind of a wimp I was to

allow my wife to be screwed by another guy? Had Anne said anything about

my sexual prowess?

	After we had finished up talking about the Berringer deal, there was a

very pregnant pause. Rick just sat there and stared, a smirk begining to

form on his face. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. I felt as if I

was out of control, in a free fall.

	Finally, Rick ended my misery. "So, I guess I proved my point. And, gee,

Bill, I'm really sorry about the condition of Anne's pussy. I never

dreamt that she could be so tight after years of marriage."

	Rick had done it again: pushed my button. I really should have just

admitted it and walked away with my tail (or dick) between my legs. But,

I don't know if it was masochism or simply sheer stupididty, I took an

indefensible and idiotic position.

	"Rick, you've proved nothing. Anne was out last with her friend Kathy. I

know it for a fact. You have no evidence that you nailed Anne, other than

the fact that you sat at home and called my phone number late last night.

The fact that you know how to dial my phone number proves nothing."

	Rick was honestly taken aback by my vigorous defense. After a moment, he

just shook his head increduously and laughed. "Okay, if proof is what you

want, proof is what you'll get."

	As we parted, Rick was still smiling and shaking his head. On the other

hand, I was kicking myself. What had I done?! I had just invited Rick to

go after Anne again! As I continued to to marvel at my incredible gaff, I

began to suspect that my subconscious may have played a very significant

role in my actions. Indeed, I could feel my cock swell as I considered

the prospect of a return engagement between Rick and Anne.

	 The next week, Anne asked for another "girls night out." Of course, I

had to agree. This time she dressed in a more provocative manner: a black

silk slip dress, no bra (something I had never seen Anne do before) and I

think she was wearing black thong panties (to my knowledge Anne didn't

own any underwear of this type). Anne concocted no alibi this time,

rather she simply kissed me on the cheek and said not to wait up.

	After the kids were asleep, I drank three beers and retired to my bed

sans clothes. With absolutely no sense of personal dignity, I fondled and

sniffed Anne's cum soaked panties while imagining the salacious things

that she and Rick must be doing at that very moment. I stroked myself to

at least two good climaxes before falling asleep.

	Even in my dreams, I saw Anne's slender legs wrapped around Rick's torso,

 bucking frantically as he battered her crotch repeatedly with his thick,

erect penis. Just as I heard Anne moaning in orgasm in my dream, and

visualized Rick's balls tightening and shooting their load into Anne's

spasming cunt, a piercing sound returned me to consciousness. It was the

phone.

	In an almost Pavlovian manner, I sat up in bed on the first ring. With

the second ring, I regained my orientation. The third ring brought a

tingling sensation to my testicles and nipples. The fourth ring triggered

another eruption from my dick. Then there was only silence as my semen

pooled on my belly and I looked over to see the clock radiate 2:49 AM.

	When I heard Anne come in about 15 minutes later, I wondered what Rick's

idea of proof might be. Anne staggered into the bedroom. She pulled her

slip dress over her head. While the only light source was the LED on our

alarm clock, I could tell that she had no panties on.

	"Damn," I thought. No chance for a fresh source of mastabatory smells.

	Then, to my surprise, Anne just climbed into bed naked, without taking a

shower or putting on a nightgown. I could smell alcohol on her breath and,

 I think, Rick's cologne in her hair. She rolled over towards me, and

kissed me, deeply thrusting her in my mouth. Her lips were loose and her

saliva flowed freely all over my cheeks and chin. Anne had never kissed

me in such a wanton and messy fashion before. The taste of alcohol was

unmistakeable, but mixed in were flavors with which I was unfamiliar. I

don't know if it was the alcohol, but when Anne finally withdrew her lips,

 my face was coated with a sticky and slimey residue.

	Before I could fully assess the situation, Anne grabbed the back of my

hair with both hands and forcefully guided my head underneath the sheets.

My cheek brushed her left nipple which was erect and harder than I had

ever experienced. Anne kept pushing my head until I was between her legs.

This was quite out of the norm; Anne had never demanded oral sex before.

If I went down on her, it was always at my instigation.

	There I was in the darkness, under the covers. For all intents and

purposes, I was blind. Yet, my other senses were heightened. The aroma

emanating from Anne's crotch was pungent. It was the same odor I

remembered from her soiled panties, only intensified. There were

squishing sounds coming from her pussy, and every so often, a little

"fart" of air would escape.

	Impatiently, Anne ground my face into her groin. I could feel a hot,

slimey, sticky pool of fluids soaking her pubic hair and cradled by the

folds of her spread labia. Instinctively, I opened my mouth and extended

my tongue into the void between her thighs. The opening to Anne's vagina

was enormous. It seemed wide enough to consume my nose, mouth and chin.

My tongue caught a huge glob of the flow which oozed from her cunt. The

strong taste was foreign to me: tart and salty with a tinge of the musky

flavor of Anne's vaginal juices.

	Now there was no denying it. I was swallowing the semen Rick's cock had

deposited deep in my wife's pussy. Common sense, Judeo-Christian morality

and years of hetereosexuality dictated that I should be revolted. But, my

rigid dick and throbbing prostate said otherwise. With a fervor, I began

tonguing Anne's swollen and distended labia lips seeking to savor the

remnants that had already escaped from her cunt. I sucked what seemed

like a endless stream of semen from the depths of her vagina. All the

while Anne moaned and rocked her pelvis against my jaw. I heard myself

whimpering with satisfaction as if I were a suckling infant taking

nourishment from a mother's tit.

	Time and time again, I tried to extend my tongue and swab Anne's cervix,

but I couldn't. Rick's dick must have been not only thick as a redwood

but long as one. He must have pounded Anne's cervix well up into her

belly.

	After Anne had spasmed in orgasm, a thicker flow of cum poured forth. I

lapped it up and became to wonder if Rick's sperm had made its way into

Anne's womb. Even though I knew Anne was on the pill, the thought of

Rick's virile seed swimming in search of one of Anne's eggs, sent me over

the edge. Without even touching myself, I came again, my semen pooling on

the mattress as I continued to coax every drop of Rick's semen from my

wife's folds.

	After what must have been ninety minutes of furious efforts, Anne had

climxed three times and was clean as a whistle. I, too, was hard again,

but Anne was asleep and there was nary a dollop of sperm left in her

vagina. With some hesitancy, I decided to fuck Anne myself. I positioned

my penis at her gaping hole. Literaly no pressure was necessary as my

dick disappeared. It was a loose, warm sensation as I moved my erection

around this vast expanse that had once been a tight little pussy known

only to me. There was ample room for more and Anne's vagina almost

engulfed my balls as well. Apparently, the absence of friction allowed

Anne to sleep through the five minutes of my squirming inside of her. I

tried to hold off as long as possible, but the thought slipping around in

my wife's used pussy was too much. I added my light load to the scene of

the crime and fell into a deep sleep.

	The next morning (which seemed to come to soon), I awoke with a crusty

residue coating my face. Rick and Anne's combined juices had dried like a

tight mask. I showered and left for work, leaving Anne asleep. Her face

seemed contented.

	Continued in Part 3...





THE FOURTH RING - PART 3	



Copyright 1995 Hunter Jackson



Predictably, Rick called mid-morning to schedule a lunch. I was resigned 

to the continued humiliation of picking up the check for the man who made 

me a cuckhold.

	Rick was beaming with his sense of achievement when I met him at the 

cafe'. As we sat down at our table, Rick crowed "So, how's my boy? I hope 

your mommie taught you to be a good loser."

	Perhaps I lacked the depth of conviction from my earlier denials, but I 

surprised myself by conjuring up enough strength to say: "Rick, I'm 

really tiring of this entire charade. You haven't accomplished anything, 

and you certainly have no proof."

	"Tsk, tsk, tsk.." Rick replied as he shook his head condescendingly. As 

he did, Rick reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a pair of black 

silk thong panties which he deposited on my plate.

	I immediately recognized the panties as the pair that I had seen on Anne 

for the first time, the night before. After regaining some composure, I 

picked the panties up with my finger and, while dangling them in front of 

Rick, said "Rick, I'm surprised, I never knew this side of you. After all,

 a man of your station in life shouldn't wear women's underwear!"

	Rick was not amused. "Look, pencil-dick ... this is your proof. Those 

are Anne's panties that I kept as a souvenir from last night."

	"Oh, that explains the phone call in the middle of the night." I smirked.

 "It was you up to your old games. Damn near woke both me and Anne up. Oh,

 by the way, Anne doesn't wear or own any thong panties."

	As I surreptiously slid the panties in my jacket pocket (for later 

examination and sniffing), Rick's face got red and angry. Then, he 

relaxed and suddenly became to laugh loudly.

	"Okay, okay, I get it. I think I know what's going on." Rick gasped 

after stifling his guffaw. "Kinda strange, but whatever floats your boat..

! If you want undeniable proof, you shall have it."

	The rest of the lunch proceeded without mention of Anne or the wager. 

But, I did catch myself noticing Rick's cologne, the same smell that Anne 

brought home. I also began to imagine what Rick looked like in the nude 

with particular time spent visualizing his erect cock and heavy testicles.

 Indeed, kinda strange for a married, hetero guy.

	For the next few days, I wondered what kind of proof Rick had in mind. 

To my disappointment, Anne did not ask for any "girls' nights out."  I 

was doubly disappointed to discover that the "prize" thong panties did 

not have any dried semen. There was the discernable aroma of Anne's 

juices, but missing was the pungent odor of a man's ejaculate.

	The next Wednesday, Rick called and invited me to lunch, again. I was 

surprised. Anne hadn't gone out at all the preceding evenings. My 

curiosity was piqued as I hurried to keep the lunch date. I was anxious 

and it didn't help that Rick was running late. I was so nervous that I 

ordered a drink, something that I never do at lunch. After about ten 

minutes of fidgiting, The waiter came over and handed me an envelope with 

my name on it. I opened it and found a novelty greeting card with the 

picture of a shapely young woman bending over to reveal an ass comparable 

to Anne's with lace panties. On the inside, it read "The End is in Sight!"

Underneath was handwritten: "Your absolute proof awaits you in the master 

bath of your house ...Rick"

	I threw a $20 down on the table and left the cafe' like a bat out of 

Hell. Fortunately, there were no speed traps between the restaurant and 

my house. When I arrived, I noticed that Anne's car was still in the 

garage, but she was nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, I headed straight 

to the master bath. But, to my frustration, there was nothing! Absolutely,

 nothing was amiss or out of the ordinary! Like a fumbling treasure 

hunter, I looked in every drawer and cupboard, under ever towel, even in 

the toilet tank. Zippo! I was ready to go track down Rick and knock the 

shit out of him, when I heard the front door open. Anne's laughter was 

immediately recognizable. But, she was talking to someone else and moving 

towards the bedroom.

	My instincts motivated me to hide or run. In retrospect, it was absurd. 

Here I was in my own home, feeling like a burglar. 

	Since I knew that the french doors to our bedroom were locked, I was 

trapped in the master bath. I switched off the light, and hoped that Anne 

didn't need to use the facilities. 

	Initially, I sat quietly on the commode. Anne's voice grew louder as I 

heard her enter the bedroom. When I could make out what she was saying, I 

was shocked.

	"God! I'm dripping wet! My panties are soaking." Anne exclaimed 

breathlessly.

	Whether by serendipity or by plan, I realized that I could see most of 

the bedroom including our bed in the reflection of the vanity mirror. 

There, I saw a reversed image of Anne unzipping a stylish red skirt and 

letting it fall to the floor where she kicked it away from her feet. She 

was still wearing matching red pumps and thigh-high stockings. The tail 

of her white, silk blouse covered her panties. 

	Although I was somewhat disoriented by the mirror image, I realized that 

she was looking towards the door to the living room as she began to 

slowly unbutton her blouse. As she did, she licked her lips in a 

seductive manner I had never seen before. With a glistening pout, she 

finished with the last button. Anne opened the blouse that slipped from 

her shoulders to the floor. To my surprise, Anne was not wearing a bra. 

Her 34B breasts were fully exposed with her nipples erect. With her 

blouse gone, I could finally see Anne's panties. They were skimpy, high-

cut and, she was right. There was a very noticeable dark wet spot seeping 

through the crotch.

	Anne's gaze was still directed towards the bedroom door. "Do you still 

like what you see?" Anne asked in a deep voice.

	I heard a  male voice reply "umm-hmmm."

	"Prove it. Show me that you like it." Anne commanded.

	From my angle, I couldn't see her male guest, but I knew it had to be 

Rick. I heard the sound of rustling clothes and, then, an unzipping 

zipper. With that sound, Anne's eyes grew very large as she looked down. 

Her breathing grew faster, and she started manipulating her hard nipples.



	"God. It looks even larger in the day light." Anne licked her lips again 

while working her nipples.

	Suddenly, Anne squatted down gracefully keeping her balance in her high 

heels. With her legs spread, emphasizing the growing wet spot that now 

almost saturated the entirety of her underwear, Anne beckoned with her 

index finger. "Please ... bring it here. I need to taste it, feel it ...

"

	In anticipation, both Anne and I waited. On the edge of the mirror, 

I saw a bulbous cock-head, pre-cum fluid dribbling from the hole. It was 

a little difficult to estimate its size given the absence of a reference 

object. But, it seemed abnormally large. Slowly, the shaft came into view.

 It too seemed thick and had bulging veins. I expected to immediately see 

Rick's body, but more and more shaft followed until it culminated in dark 

brown pubic hair with commensurate testicles swaying heavily between 

Rick's muscular legs.

	When Rick reached Anne, I could finally appreciate the massive size of 

Rick's genitals. His cock-head touched the bottom of her chin while 

brushing Anne's nostrils. Its length and girth were far greater than my 

slim 6 inches. I mentally guessed 9-10 inches in length and, as Anne 

grasped his dick, her hand could not quite encircle it.

	In a worshipping manner, Anne's tongue dabbed up Rick's pre-cum. She 

then closed her eyes and kissed the tip of the mammoth rod. Just as 

Anne's lips parted wide, in a optimistic effort to give passage to Rick's 

erection, Rick motioned to the bedstand and said: "Shouldn't you cover up 

Bill's picture?"

	With a wicked smile, Anne got up and retrieved our wedding photo that 

she kept next to the bed. She strategically placed it on the bed, inches 

away from Rick's cock. Then Anne lifted Rick's cock to the photo and, in 

a flaunting manner, slurped the head into her mouth. 

	The humiliation excited me. Anne's lips were strecthed taut and her jaw 

wide open as she did her best to fellate Rick. In the background was our 

wedding picture. Despite her efforts, Anne's petite mouth could not 

accomodate more than 4 inches of Rick's dick.

	After about five minutes of valiant efforts, Anne stopped sucking and 

stode up. She slipped her sopping panties off and laid back on the bed. 

Her legs were splayed wide and I could clearly see her engorged labia 

glistening with her lubricants.

	"Rick, I need you to fuck me good! It's about time that I get really 

well fucked in this bed!"

	That hurt, but my own erection throbbed.

	Anne positioned out wedding protrait at the end of the bed between her 

legs. Rick climbed between her thighs and began to run the tip of his 

cock up and down Anne's slit. It seemed to dwarf Anne's crotch. Anne's 

eyes shut and she began to moan softly as Rick prepped her for entry. As 

he did, there was a squishing sound as Anne's juices flowed.

	"I think your pussy is starting to get used to me, its opening wide." 

Rick remarked.

	"Ummm-hmmm. It misses your thick, long cock. It wishes that you were 

fucking it raw 24 hours a day."

	I was amazed. The impossible seemed to begin to happen. Anne's petite 

pussy was expanding beyond anything I had ever witnessed. Rick's cock-

head disappeared and Anne sighed, breathed in deeply and tilted her 

pelvis to aid the invader. The lips to her vagina were stretched around 

Rick's girth as he slowly plunged deeper. After about three minutes of 

manuvering, I could no longer see Rick's cock; his grapefruit-sized balls 

rested in the crack of Anne's ass. It was an awesome sight. 

	Rick began to pump the full length of his cock in and out of Anne's 

distended cunt. Anne became very vocal as Rick's tempo increased, moaning 

and whimpering in obvious ecstasy. The slurping noises coming from her 

pussy as Rick pounded away were nasty. With each thrust, Anne's body 

would recoil and her breasts wiggle as Rick's penis rammed her cervix 

further back into her abdomin.

	To my amazement, Anne's stomach began to undulate with an orgasm after 

about five mintues of frantic fucking. Rick wouldn't let up and allow the 

spasms to subside. Instead, he worked Anne's pussy like a finely tuned 

instrument, bringing her again and again to climax until I lost count.

	By know my own dick was throbbing as if ready to explode. Suddenly, in 

the reflection of the mirror, I saw Rick's pace reach a crescendo, his 

sperm-laden balls tightened and with an enormous grunt he launch his cum 

into the deepest regions of Anne's overstretched vagina, at the door to 

her womb. Rick's load was so voluminous that there was inadequate space 

in Anne's vagina to accomodate both Rick's semen and his convulsing cock. 

Thick, white cum oozed out around Rick's embedded shaft.

	Then, I realized that my own cum was saturating my pants and running 

down my leg.

	After a momentary respite in which Rick and Anne (and I) caught their 

breath, Rick withdrew his still erect member with a "plop" from Anne's 

gaping opening.Anne proceeded to suck Rick for all she was worth. Anne's

cultured restraint and manners were all but gone; she slurped and lapped

with utter abandon. After about fifteen minutes of ministrations, Rick

rolled Anne over on to all fours and plunged back in doggy-style.

	Rick spent the next 90 minutes fucking Anne in every imaginable position.

Twice more he spewed his semen into her pussy, each time his load seemed,

incredibly, to be as large as the first. Rick cum matted Anne's dark

pubic hair and flowed freely from her cunt after Rick withdrew for the

last time. Anne had had innumerable orgasms and collapsed, naked but for

the sweat glistening all over her body. Rick dressed walked over and

kissed Anne fully on the lips. Exhausted, she mumbled, "Thank you for

cumming ...please cum again."

	Before Rick left the bedroom, he turned to the darkness in the

masterbath and looked directly into the vanity mirror. It immediately

dawned on me that reflections work both directions. Staring with a

satisfied smirk, Rick zipped up his fly with an arrogant flair. Without

saying a word, he turned and left.

	I waited for another fifteen minutes to see if Anne would also leave,

but she was sound asleep.As I emerged from the bathroom, the smell of sex

permeated the room. I looked at my satiated wife splayed nude on our

marital bed with another man's sperm running out of her well-worn pussy.

The picture was too much for me to take. I climbed into bed between her

legs and proceeded to lick the remnants of the illicit coupling from her

folds. Anne moaned quietly, as my tongue darted in and out of her swollen

labia, but her eyes never opened. My own frenzy increased as I slobbered,

face down in her crotch. After sucking every available drop out, I

noticed that I had come again. Then, exhaustion overtook me as well, and

I fell into a deep sleep.

	When I awoke, it was 9:30 PM, Anne was out in the den watching TV with

the kids who had since come home from school. Embarrassed, I didn't say

anything to Anne. She, too, was silent although ther was a contented

smile on her face.

	In the nine months which have passed since Rick gave me "absolute proof",

Anne will go out once or twice a week and return home in the wee hours

of the morning. Sometimes Rick will still call before she comes home and

let the phone ring four times. When Anne comes in, there is no doubt that

she has been well-fucked. Without mentioning anything, she strips out of

her clothes, climbs on top of me, stradles my head and lowers her sopping,

oozing pussy onto my mouth for cleaning.

	This past week, after sucking down the last dollop of Rick's semen from

her now-permanently enlarged pussy, Anne surprised me by mentioning that

she was thinking about having another child. Instantaneously, I shot my

load....You see, I hadn't cum inside her vagina for almost five months.	

I wonder how she plans on getting pregnant?!

	End.