A Debt to be Paid

When I was growing up, most of my girlfriends were being taught that they could do and be anything that they wanted. My education was drastically different, which made me sort of an odd ball in many respects. One principal difference is that I will proudly admit that I am a sex object, since nature has seen fit to endow me with those attributes that inspire lust in men. For my husband, I am also a sexual plaything. After all, it is my duty as a wife, and a woman, to give him the sexual fulfillment that he wants, needs, and deserves. From my perspective, that means that my entire body is available to him whenever he wants it.

In conjunction with what I have just related, I was taught to believe that there was no such thing as equality between the sexes. To me, men, from the earliest point in time, have always been the authoritarian figure, the ruler of all, especially women. They were meant to be the masters, with women as their supportive subordinates.

Now don't get the idea that I am some brainless slave, because I am not. Like most women, my intelligence is superior to that of the average male. Yet, I chose not to flaunt it. I believe that there is an inherent social structure, and I was not meant to be at the top of it.

This belief leads to the conclusion that I am nothing without a man, and I agree with that. My place is to be, symbolically, one step behind my husband, lending my support and advice when it is needed, but willing to abide by whatever decision he makes. Luckily I have a man that seeks my counsel, although he occasionally does not follow it.

An example of this is that my husband, Brad, is an avid gambler, despite my objections. Since he is the king of our castle, I have no right to prevent him from holding his bi-monthly poker games in our home. In a way, I do not mind these games, since they are usually for low stakes, and his friends are really nice guys.

The games normally start around 8:00 and last until midnight. While the game is in progress, I make sure that the boys are never out of beer, and that there are snacks for them to munch on. Sometimes, when I am serving, my husband, or one of his friends, will pat me on the butt, or make an offhanded compliment, generally of a sexual nature. Of course I do sort of instigate this by replying with some sexual comment of my own. Usually something about them not being man enough to handle me, or that they would not know what to do with me if they had me.

Somewhere between 10:00 and 11:00 I make my final round before heading off to bed. As I do, I give each of the guys a friendly kiss on the cheek. My last stop is my husband, where I allow him to try and shove his tongue down my throat while he fondles my unfettered breasts.

When I enter the bedroom I leave the door open, although Brad has gotten me in the habit of sleeping in the nude. I am aware that this is a dangerous thing to do, but I have learned that what transpires at the games is just good natured fun, and never will be acted upon. That is until that one fateful night.

It started just like all the other poker parties, with the usual guys. Only this time one of them had brought along a friend, Daryl, to join in. At first he seemed like a nice enough guy, except that I got the impression that he was trying to disrobe whenever I was not looking. Now this has become standard procedure for the guys, but the way he did it made me feel uncomfortable.

Even before the usual three beers, the sexual innuendoes, and light groping began. Daryl started it by placing his hand on my leg, just below the hem of my short skirt. Because I had grown accustom to things like this, I paid no attention to it.

"Are you wearing panties?" he asked.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," I replied in my usual glib way, only to feel his hand suddenly shoot upward. Before I could even react, his fingers were touching my unclad pussy.

"This bitch ain't wearing no panties," he exclaimed as I moved away from him.

"No shit Sherlock, she isn't wearing a bra either," Jerry intoned sarcastically.

This was the first time I had ever been called a bitch, and I was not sure if I liked it. Like I said before, I did not mind the sexual inferences and the occasional improper caress. To me, it was part of being a sex object, but being called a bitch was unwarranted.

Because of my beliefs, I could not reprimand Daryl myself, and looked to my husband to uphold my honor. When our eyes met, he knew what I expected him to do. But instead of saying anything, he looked away as if he was intimidated by the new guy.

Lacking any form of chastisement, Daryl was free to do what he wanted, and the rest of the night he was all hands. If I came anywhere near him, which was hard not to do, he was attempting to get his finger in my pussy. When he was not doing that, he was trying to expose my breasts. This he managed to do several times, before I finally buttoned up my blouse all the way to my neck. With my breast now inaccessible, by the knot that had previously held my blouse together, and the buttons, the only thing I had to worry about was my vulnerable pussy.

I know that I could have gone into the bedroom and put on some pants, but I did not want to give him the satisfaction. Besides, all the other guys, including my husband, were getting a kick out of watching me squirm around, trying to keep his finger from plunging into me. It was as if it had become some kind of sadistic game, with everyone waiting to see if I would surrender and allow him to reach his goal.

For me it was no game. My body belonged to my husband, and only he was entitled to determine its disposition. He had gained that right by the act of marriage, using that golden ring to transfer ownership from my father to him.

A little after 10:00 I went to bed, not bother to give everyone my customary kiss goodnight. As I headed towards the bedroom, I had the pleasure of knowing that I had thwarted Daryl's efforts to finger me. Not once was he able to get further than the delicate folds of my pussy lips.

After I had stripped off my clothes, I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my naked body. I don't know how long I slept, but I was awaken by the tug of the covers being pulled from between my legs. When I opened my eyes, I discovered that I was completely exposed, except for one leg and a small portion of my lower body. Harold was standing by the side of the bed, trying to reveal what little there was that was still hidden.

"It's okay," he said, as I grabbed what covering I could and flung it over me, hugging them to my naked body. "I came to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

Harold sat down beside me and began to relate what had happened after I left. He reminded me that Brad had been drinking more than usual, and that it only got worse after I went to bed. Because of all the beer that he had drunk, he began to play sloppily, losing almost ever hand. Eventually he ran out of money and wanted to bet IOU's, but Daryl wouldn't let him. They told Daryl that Brad was good for it, but he wouldn't listen.

"What has that got to do with me? My husband has done that before."

Harold continued by telling me that Daryl wanted something more tangible than a paper IOU. Brad tried to put up his watch, but Daryl said that it was worthless. When Brad didn't come up with anything else, Daryl suggested that he bet me. They told Brad that he was crazy, and that he should withdraw the bet, but he insisted that it remain.

Naturally my husband lost, but he continued to put me up as his marker. Harold apologized for not ending the game then, but did not give me a reason for why he didn't. He then informed me that I had been pledged to each of them, including Daryl.

"Personally I do not want to jeopardize our friendship in this way, but Daryl has no qualms about collecting. You know how he was with you tonight."

"I appreciate you telling me this, but I have a question. Did Brad know what using me to cover his bet meant?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe at the start he didn't, but all of us tried to make sure that he knew."

"And, he went ahead and did it anyway?"

"I'm afraid so. Like I said, it is only Daryl that intends to fuck you. That's not saying that the rest of us would not like to, but we are willing to wait until Brad has the money to pay us."

It was now time for me to make a decision. I could refuse to let any of them have me, or I could be true to the beliefs that I have held for all these years. Although I was not happy with the situation, and definitely wanted to say no, my principles were more important to me. If I was going to be committed to them, then I could not disregard one because it did not suit me at the moment.

I had always held that a woman's mind was the only thing that truly belongs to her, while the rest of her was owned by a man, in this case my husband. Now that man had decided to give temporary custody to other men. He had given them the right to use my body the way he had, taking pleasure from it in any way that suited them.

While I was thinking about this, I briefly thought about passively lying there and letting them fuck a emotionless body. As soon as I had it I disregarded it because I would be living a lie. These men deserved the best that I and my body could give them. After all, for a brief time they will own me just as my husband did, and I could not give them any less then I did him.

"How do you want me?" I asked as I tossed the covers aside. "You can have me any way you want, and in any position. What I'm trying to say is that you can use me to fulfill your wildest desire, until you feel that the debt has been paid."

"Please don't think of it in that way," he hurtfully replied, as his finger hastily began removing his clothes. "You are not a whore!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. What I meant was that I will do anything that you ask me to, and as often as you want."

When Harold finally climbed up on the bed, his cock was so rigid that weights could be hung from it and it would not have bent. It seemed like only a moment later that I had that inflexible rod thrusting deep into my pussy. As it plunged into me, I instinctively wrapped my legs around him, and pulled him in deeper.

With my legs locked around him, I partially controlled his movement, making sure that he was always inside of me. When he lunged forward I would raise my hips, allowing him to penetrate me to his fullest. This gave both of us the greatest pleasure, which for me was extraordinary.

"Oh yes," I panted. "Fuck me."

I remember saying other things, like "give me your cum", and "I want you to cum inside of me." These were all words that my husband had taught me to say while he was fucking me, and they seemed just as appropriate now. Of course there was a lot of moaning and groaning, but these things I did not need to be taught, since they naturally came out.

Things were really beginning to heat up. I could already feel the flames of passion rapidly spreading through me, spurred on with each glorious thrust of his wonderful cock. Just as I was ready to fly to that breathtaking pinnacle of pleasure, I heard him give one loud groan and then several short ones. With each one he made small violent jabs, as he sent his hot sperm surging into me.

Although I had not achieved an orgasm, I knew that the male ego demanded that I at least fake one. So I gave the best representation of a full blown one that I could. Even then, it seemed inadequate thanks for what he had given me. For, in my way of thinking, although the sex act is incredible, it is the sperm that they leave behind that is the most treasured. It is the most precious gift that a man can give a woman, because it is a part of him.

During my fake orgasm I naturally unlocked my legs and Harold took advantage of it. As he withdrew his spent cock and crawled from between them, I had a chance to fully appreciate the reward that he had bestowed upon me. Yet, as I did, I felt it begin to slowly ooze out.

"Do me a favor." I said as I tried to keep his cum inside of me. "Brad says that men do not like sloppy seconds. So, before you send the next one in, give me a chance to clean myself."

While Harold was getting back into his clothes, I hobbled towards the master bath room. There I filled a douche bag with warm water, and shoved the nozzle into my inundated pussy. The bag was half empty when it suddenly dawned on me that I could have had a tasty treat if I had only remove his cum with my hand and put it in my mouth.

It had not been my idea to do that. Brad had come up with it, one night, after he had energetically fuck my pussy twice without stopping. Now, every time he fucks my pussy, he sits back and watches as I transfer his cum to my mouth. In a way it is fitting, since I am not losing his cherished offering, only putting it in a different cavity where my body can absorb it.

When I returned to the bedroom, Jerry was waiting for me. He had already removed his clothes, and was sporting an even longer erection than Harold's, only the girth was much smaller. It was almost as if he had one of those super sized pencils.

"Harry said that you said, that we could take you anyway we wanted. If that's true, then I want you to blow me."

Now, I'm proud to say that I am a very accomplished cocksucker, but I wasn't like that when I married Brad. He taught me very thing I know about it, usually the hard way. At first it was just a light tap on the head, whenever my jaw slackened enough so that my teeth came in contact with his cock. Once I had learned not to do that, he began plunging it down my throat. That was a horrible experience, me choking until tears came to my eyes. Only then would he pull back, allowing the reflex to subside, and then penetrate my throat again. Thankfully that reaction eventually vanished, although it took some time, and I am not able to enjoy that form of sex.

When Jerry mentioned that he wanted a blowjob, I had my doubts as to whether I could take anything that far down my throat. Despite my misgivings, I realized that I would have to try. Once Brad had decided to give me to his friends, it had become my duty no matter what sacrifices I had to make.

Moving closer to him, I knelt in front of him and took the tip of his elongated cock into my mouth. Brad always enjoyed having me caress it with my tongue before he put it in my throat. However, no sooner had I started, when Jerry grabbed the back of my head and yanked it towards him. An instant later it was surging into my throat and past my larynx.

My husband always wanted me to hum, whenever he was in my throat. He said that the vibration really stimulated him. Yet, when I tried that with Jerry, the pressure of his cock against my vocal cords made it almost impossible.

I don't think that Jerry was interested in any extra stimulus, because he quickly began fucking my mouth as if it were a second pussy. Up until then, I had never viewed it in that way and the thought excited me. It was so arousing that my hand slipped between my legs to masturbate the real one.

It was not long before an orgasmic spasm took hold of me, and I came hard, as wonder and joy filled me with warmth. Part of that heat came from the torrents of extremely thick and gooey semen that was being pumped into my throat. The continuous volleys clung to the sides, forming layers, and refusing to slide down to my stomach. Mercifully it soon ended, and I was able to dispatch it to where it belonged. After I had, I kissed his cock and cleaned it with my tongue.

When Jerry left, I found myself wondering who would be next. As I climbed up on the bed, and pressed my legs against my chest, I prayed that it would not be Daryl. Unfortunately, when I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"I told ya, bitch, that I was gonn'a have ya," he said as he moved towards the bed. "Stretch that lovely bod out so that I can see what I'm get'in."

As I laid down and spread my legs, I noticed that he was not getting undressed. Since Brad had never fucked me with his clothes on, I could not imagine a man wanting to do it that way. Yet, I was willing to believe the worst when it came to Daryl.

"Not bad. Not bad at all," he said as his hands roamed roughly over my body.

While one finger was exploring the inside of my pussy, the other hand was squeezing a breast. The way he was compressing it hurt, and I told him so, but he just ignored me and lowered his lips to the nipple. When he had it in his mouth, he began to suck on it like a child trying to get nourishment from its mother.

As he continued to suckle on my sensitive nipple, his finger had discovered my G-spot, and was massaging it. The stimulation from both quickly ignited a fire within me, that soon turned it into a roaring inferno. When the heat of the flames merged, I soared, experiencing the most fantastic orgasm that I have ever had without a cock inside of me.

While I was still floating, he crawled between my outstretched legs. After placing them on either side of his head, he brought his tongue in contact with my pussy lips. An instant later he was rapidly, yet gently licking the outer lips. Occasionally he would stop and suck my clit into his mouth, as his tongue flicked across the tip.

Since I was still rapturously inflamed from his previous manipulations, it was not long before I shot skyward. This time I ascended higher than I ever had before. The whole time I was begging him not to stop.

Daryl must have heard my plea, because he jammed his tongue into my pussy. As it did, I flexed my leg muscles, using his back and neck for leverage, bring my pussy up so that he could get further in. Once again he found my G-spot, and began pressing against it, as his tongue made tiny swirls over it.

I had never felt anything as incredible as what he was doing to me. Not once, during our years of marriage, had my husband ever done anything like that. Now someone that I barely knew was sending me to heights that I never dreamed of.

While I was still soaring, Daryl must have moved. For when I returned to my body, he was beside me. He had one hand cupping my pussy, while his tongue flicked across a nipple.

"Now don't ya wish that ya hadn't been such a bitch?" he commented when he noticed that I was back with him.

For a moment I did not know what he was talking about, but then it hit me. I could have experienced the same ecstasy earlier if I had let him have me then. The trouble was that Brad had not sanctioned it then,

"You don't understand..." I replied before he cut me off.

"I think I do, but we'll talk about it later when I cash in my second chit."

After saying that, he scooted off the bed and disappeared through the door. As he was leaving, I could not help but wonder what he had in store for me when he returned. How could he possibly top what he had already done?

The next two men were sort of an anticlimax compared to the joy that I had just been given. Tim took me up the butt, which I enjoy, and I even climaxed for him. Mark fucked my pussy, giving me another orgasm. After he had pulled out, I cleaned myself the way I wish I had done with Harold.

Aware that Daryl would be next, I washed myself just to be sure. When I came out, he was already naked, and sporting the biggest erection I had even seen. It was at least as long as Jerry's, and maybe a bit more, but it was much thicker that any of the men there.

"Ya like what ya see?" he asked, noticing that I could not keep my eyes off it. "Well, I'm gon'na shove it into your cunt. So why don't ya get ready while I stroke it a bit. I want it its full size when I stick it in ya."

I could not believe that something that monstrous was not already at its full size. As I complied with his command, I wondered if I would be able to take it inside of me. Yet, I was determined to at least try, not only for his sake but because I wanted it in me.