My first marraige in the 1970's
 

This is a series of stories (and maybe photos of recreations).

Excerpt:

My first wife was just out of high school when I married her in 1969. We were married only three years and then I divorced her.

She had gotten so she could not help herself and I just could not stand it. I am thinking maybe it was the repressed up-bringing, being a Mormon, that made her the way she was, but I don’t know. Even at the end she seemed so confused about her feelings. She was ashamed of it of course and very emotional when I found out and made her tell me all about it, but she just didn’t seem to understand what had happened. She had not wanted me to be hurt. She had just wanted me to love her.

For that matter she just wanted Mr. Miller to like her or love her. Or at least that is how it started, she said. He said he loved her and she wanted him to love her. He was her boss at the Jewelry store where she worked. And I should have guessed things by the way she was kept hours after closing and the jewelry he let her “borrow.” What she did, she said, was because he needed her, but it didn’t mean anything. But why did she do it for the others?

And she said to me sobbing it was only because she wanted Mr. Miller to be happy....

Then the “big event” happened. She started inventory at the jewelry store and had to work a Saturday. She came very home late, exhausted, was obviously drunk and went to the bedroom, put on her nightgown, and got into bed and went to sleep without a word.

They next morning she did not want to go to work. I don’t know why but I looked in her purse and found a roll of cash, ten-dollar bills. I asked her where she got it from and she was evasive. Then told me Mr. Miller had given it to her instead of paying her overtime. This made some sense but later, I had other reasons to be suspicious and I asked her again and she broke down crying and confessed.

She told me a lot of it, but not all of it. She confessed her “affair” with Mr. Miller and then with much sobbing and tears she admitted that was not all, that he had persuaded her to take her clothes off in front of some men at a bar. That is where the money came from.

The bar, as it turned out, was a Bob’s bar. A bar that I and many of my friends used to hang out at, and where one of my friends still worked as a bartender.

I was certain she had not told me everything. There had been several late nights, as well as that Saturday. More than just stripping for some of Miller’s friends had taken place. But she just wept when I pressed her and said how sorry she was.

Second Installment
 

Excerpt:

It had always seemed to me that she wanted to do what she seemed uncertain to do. She was hesitant, but never reluctant. She was timid, but not unwilling. She was shy and embarrassed, but not ashamed. And if she felt humiliation in any of things she did, if she felt embarrassed, truthfully she could not distinguish between the warmth of that blush and the warmth of the sexual flush that she also felt at the same time. Perhaps, because her mother had repressed her feelings and taught her to be so uncertain of herself sexually, she needed the anxiety of humiliation and a sense of coercion to make her fully sexually aroused. I don’t know. But the way she responded to what happened to her, I think this is true, even if she would never admit it. How they treated her made her want to do what she did, even if she would never admit it.

Anyway, I think Mr. Miller saw all of this in her instantly, just as I did. I thought about it right after I met him when he had hired her. I saw it in the way he looked at her. I said something to her about it, but she did not understand me. She said he was a nice man. And he paid her very well. Too well, as I should have known.

He had a small jewelry shop downtown, had had it for years. Never made much money at it and had been robbed ore than a few times and was barely hanging on, really. His wife was a b*tchy nag. I only met her once and I could see why he preferred to work all the time. So, I was not surprised when Karen’s hours begin to get longer.

I asked her about it—what are you doing so late?—and so on. And she said they talked. He was teaching her about gems. And it was true. At least at first.

He would make tea after he closed the shop, and they would sit side by side on stools at his workbench, and he would take gems out of this little packets and give her a loop so she could examine them with him while he explained them to her. She really did learn a lot. Well, that turned out to be true in lots of ways.

This long evening work became more and more frequent, and then one day he had her stay on a Friday night, although the shop was always closed on weekends. She explained to me later that his wife had gone out of town and he was lonely.

She did not get home until almost ten and I could tell she had been drinking. That was not quite the first time things happened, but it was the first serious incident.

Actually she’d been coming up with a bit of booze on her breath for a couple of weeks. And she had admitted that he had started putting brandy in the tea that the two of them drank together.

Later I pieced together the whole thing after she told me, and after Bob had told me more. It happened this way. It started with an arm around her as he showed her things. It progressed to a kiss goodnight. It went from this to his sitting beside her and telling her about how unhappy he was with his wife and intimating things about a lack of a sex life, which embarrassed her, but which she permitted. She tried to make him feel better. She felt sorry for him. And he would ask her if she liked him and she would say she did.

Then, inevitably, he confided that he was in love with her, that she was so beautiful, and that he knew she was married and that he would do nothing to hurt her, that he wanted to help her, that he wanted her to have things, he wanted to give her things. He gave her a ring. He insisted she take it, although she knew it was a genuine diamond. She must have known this was wrong, because she hid the ring from me.

He wept when he gave her the ring, and she had to accept it, she said. That was the first night that he kissed her mouth, and she was docile to him at first, and then when he kept up, she felt sorry for him and kissed him back. They kissed for a while. Warmly, I think. She said nothing more happened, but I wondered if he did not put his hands on her too. But she insisted nothing happened.

But now this became the common thing. Drinking and then kissing and he putting his hands onto her and she said he took her hand and put it on himself and she rubbed his erection through his pants....

third installment
 

Excerpt:

So now we come to that Friday night. Mr. Miller was more certain himself and more determined to have his way. When he made their drinks that night, he made them very strong and when they began kissing he almost immediately unzipped the back of her dress, and this time unzipped it all the way to bottom so that her dress was loose about her shoulders and he could reach in and feel her back and the slip she was wearing, which he did, and which my wife did not resist.

She had come to expect this routine, but still she did not think anything would really come of it. She expected him to want to masturbate him, but this was just a kindness really. He was as old as her father. She wanted him to be happy. She really did love him and he really did love her. It was just a kindness.

He already was in shirtsleeves as he always was afterhours. But he stood up and took off his tie and she smiled and asked him what he was doing when he started to take off his shirt. He wore an old-fashioned sleeveless undershirt, like those her father wore (I only wear the regular T-shirts myself so his sort of struck her poignantly).

“What are you doing,” she repeated sheepishly....

Then unexpectedly he took his pants off in front of her. She felt a sudden pang and an anxious uncertainty, staring at his legs and undershorts in embarrassed disbelief, but still meekly curious: “What do you want?”

She sat before him on the stool where they usually sat side by side and necked, or looked at gems, while he laid his pants on the work bench and stopped to stand before her in his undershorts, his penis swelling, bulged in it. And this being at eye-level where she sat next him, she could not help to glance at it, and partially see the swelling flesh of his penis through the parting gap of the vent of his undershorts, and wondered innocently what an uncircumcised penis must look like. She had never seen any penis other than mine, until this night.

He looked at her fixedly, seeing where her glance had gone, and without any misgivings he said to her: “Take off your dress.” .........

Please write more I'm enjoying this story.

fourth installment
 

Excerpt:

She called in sick for work on that Monday, and again on that Tuesday. On Wednesday morning I made her go to work because we needed the money.

Mr. Miller left her alone that night, and in fact he let her go home on time every night that week.

And somehow my wife thought it was over and felt more warmly toward Mr. Miller again.

But then on the following Monday he told her he wanted her to stay late again and she tried not to think of what it meant.

As usual they had their brandied tea and as usual he kissed her and drew his hand to his penis, but nothing more.

Tuesday again she stayed late and the same things happened, more or less. This time he wanted her to take off her dress and her slip but let her sit in her bra and underpants as he took off all his clothes in front of her and then he guided her to masturbate him, and for the first time she saw a man ejaculate....

fifth installment
 

Excerpt:

So Mr. Miller approached her gently and, as he spoke to her softly, words that Bob did not hear, he gently took her hands and drew them apart and she put them down to the floor so that Bob saw her breasts, her nipples still pressed to, covered by her knees, and then, gently taking hold her knees, Mr. Miller parted them, drew them down so that she exposed herself completely, and sitting with her legs splayed, Bob took in the full view of her tits and her gaping randy raw c*nt. Karen looked into open space, and sat tautly, aware of their stares on her body, especially between her legs, and her erect nipples revealed her feelings. She looked distressed, but she did not cry.

Bob saw this her tension, her shame and also her evident sexual arousal. Miller backed up to sit on his stool. He said to Bob: “What do you think?”

“Wow,” Bob said.

“Yes,” agreed Miller.

Bob could not help himself. “Can I fuck her?”

Miller laughed at Karen’s reaction, a look of instant shock and confusion, looking back and forth at Miller and Bob and when Bob moved toward her, she cowered in the corner.

Bob reassured her: “I won’t hurt you….”

Miller admitted he had not fucked her. Bob looked at him incredulously.

Miller said, nodding at Karen’s dismay: “She wasn’t ready.”

Bob looked down at Karen’s face too; she turned her head away.

“She is now….” Miller added quietly....

Miller and Bob did not kiss her, and not kissing her added to the shame she felt. Not kissing her, this was not “love-making,” but fucking her for the sake of fucking her. And she knew it.

Still they gave her a lot of foreplay, watching her expression as they did, tenderly teasing her nipples, touching and teasing the slit of her c*nt, especially the sensitive area at the top of it, against her pubic bone, and talked sweetly to reassure her; Mr. Miller telling her he loved her, and kissing her, while Bob used his hands or mouth on her.

Miller was behind her while Bob was in front, Miller groped her buttock, Bob her breasts, fingered her, slathered her nipples with his mouths and tongue, and both together fingered her, and she so stood, submissively, without refusing, and occasionally responded to sharp sensations she received. I suppose that this was the first night she had abandoned herself to a real orgasm. I was not an inattentive lover, but I did not value her pleasure as they did....

a face to a fantasy
 

a face for the young wife Karen... as she might have been

sixth installment
 

Excerpt:

.... What I know about what happened after I left her at work, and for that matter most of everything that follows, comes mostly from what Bob told me. When Karen confessed she put the emphasis on the first events, when Mr. Miller seduced her, as she saw it. How she succumbed and changed after that or because of things he made her do, how she surrendered to what he wanted, she could not admit to; she preserved in this way her own strange sense of innocent shame, although in fact she seemed to relish the emotion of her shame as much as the degrading perversions that she permitted them to do to her. The emotions she felt in either her sexual humiliation or embarrassment or her sexual abandonment were all indistinguishable to her, or rather they were all the same compulsion. I am certain it was her own sexual compulsions that they keenly exploited, seeing them so abjectly revealed by her sexual surrender. They were drawn to her like a pack of slavering dogs to a wanton b*tch in heat, her swollen c*nt dripping with her rut.

I do not mean any of this bitterly. She did not know what she was doing really. I think something broke inside her. Her sexual repression simply burst and she was overwhelmed by her feelings. And she insisted in the end upon the simple naiveté that she only wanted some one to love her, and that is why she did what they wanted. You can believe what you want.

seventh installment
 

Excerpt:

. It amused Mr. Miller, as Bob told it, who described how he deferred the customer to her and while the customer was shown a tray of rings, stepped behind Karen and lifted her dress and began fondling her bare buttock, wedging his fingers into the moistness between, and into the folds of her vagina and fiddling with her there. She, trying to talk, was disconcerted, and lapsed into inattentive moments which put-off the customer so much that he left.

The customer having left, Mr. Miller turned Karen and before she could speak began kissing her again and his hand now to the front of her, her dress raised to her waist began to finger fuck her vigorously, and she, so Bob said, put her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and enjoyed it.

Miller claimed he got her to cum on his fingers and that she had been so pent-up she burst into tears when she did and collapsed to the floor on her knees. He kissed her head and leaning over her he reached down her back and unfastened the top of her dress, and unzipped it to the bottom of the zipper. She did not resist or speak. He reached over her and seized the hem of the dress and with one violent motion drew her whole dress up and off of her. She not resisting, letting her arms go up with the motion, as he stripped the dress from her, he straightened and commented how she ought to be naked all day and left her to huddle naked behind the counter. He took her dress away and put it in a cabinet where she should not find it. She still was sobbing softly and he heard her from the workroom, so he came out, holding his cup of tea (brandy) and spoke some kindnesses, then left her to compose herself, leaving her naked as she was, and went the backroom, sniffing his hand with satisfaction.

Bob said: “You know, he did not wash his hands until he could come and have me smell her on his fingers that night at the bar and tell me all about it. What a dog!”

Can I get a little feedback here??
 

I am rolling this out in short installments. It is completely written but I think it is best taken in portions.

I have noticed that there aren't very many who are following it, so perhaps it is not a story that interests anyone very much.

So should I drop it?

Also should I post some "photo recreations" of some of the scenes?

What do you think?

What do you think?
 

More please:):):D

eighth installment
 

Excerpt:

.... Karen told me little about the things that happened in the store this week. She admitted to not wearing underwear and to sucking Mr. Miller’s cock and she confided this and the other incident in which some male customer got a peep show. Bob told me everything else.

Bob came in the shop just after this incident and so he knew about it and added details. His version was a little different than hers. I’ll explain.

She told me when he came in Mr. Miller told her to help him and she walked to the other side of the store to greet him at the counter and felt that as she did he must have seen how her skirt was hiked behind her, askew at the front of her, and showing her underpants in back. She knew she blushed and she felt ashamed of herself because he grinned and seemed wordless for a moment then pointed to the item he wanted to see. She brought out of its tray for him.

Mr. Miller offered that he had others like it in back if wanted to see them. He was not responsive, and seemed uncertain, but Mr. Miller said: “Karen, go back and get the gentlemen the tray of opal rings.” Then if he had not seen her underpants showing he certainly did then and Karen said she felt so ashamed that she did not want to return and told me: “I didn’t know what I should do….”

I thought to myself what I thought she should do, but she did not do it. She did what Mr. Miller told her and returned with the tray just as he had told her and did not fix her dress.

Mr. Miller closed the sale as Karen stood beside him and then asked: “You would like it gift wrapped, surely….” And before he could reply, he put the ring box in Karen’s hand and said: “Do you know where the wrapping paper is? I will show you…. Excuse us a minute….”

He guided Karen into the office. Of course she knew where the wrapping paper was. It was a common task. But here is where the stories diverge. Karen does not tell as Bob told me how once she was in the office Mr. Miller watched over her as she wrapped the ring box and then before she finished he explained what he expected of her. She said nothing to object, so Bob said. She faced him placidly as he explained and looked sarcastically at her discomfort and explained to her he wanted her to get used to doing this and drew her dress forward off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor so she that stood before him now wearing nothing but her underpants and socks. He put his hands on her breasts and felt her nipples though he need not do it to stimulate them, she was already affected by the anticipation.

He leaned and licked her nipples so that they shone wet with his saliva and said: “I will call you when I am ready…”

He went back to the front to complete the transaction of the sale, apologizing for being away, saying that Karen is nice young lady but easily distracted. “She just got married… you know how it is…” winking at the man.

The man looked at him in such way that Mr. Miller responded with a laugh: “O, no, not me…. Wish it were…. But no….”

The man and Mr. Miller waited for her. Finally, Mr. Miller said: “Young lady, are you ready yet?”

That was her cue and she came out as she was in her underpants and socks.....

ninth installment
 

Excerpt:

When Karen returned from the cafeteria she was in a heat, a state of stunned sexual arousal, in which she felt herself almost dreaming, everything at once vivid and vague. The ordinary things, like time of day, were gone from mind, she thought about what Mr. Miller wanted. She thought of Bob waiting for her. She remembered how different his penis felt in her, how much larger it was, how it surprised her, how much she liked it when he fucked her. She felt again that sensation in the pit of her stomach and a certain warmth flooding her vaginally, and realized she wanted him. She was surprised by her feelings, she had never felt this before, this craving to be fucked by anyone, and she felt this way toward Bob even though she did not like him. That made no sense to her and when she saw the Jewelry shop on the block she felt queasy about this situation, and what was expected. “No, I can’t…” she said to herself: “I can’t do this... I am married and I am Mormon and I ….” And she thought of what she had already done, though she is married and a Mormon. She thought of the customer. She thought of Mr. Miller’s lollipop penis drooling in her mouth and how she had enjoyed when he came in her mouth. Again the pang in her groin.

In the shop she felt faint, giddy. Mr. Miller was waiting on a customer. It was a good sale for an expensive item. He said curtly: “In the back, young lady…. Bob has been waiting for you.”

Bob was sitting at a stool. He stood up when she came in. He said merely: “You look a little sick. You okay?” She nodded. He nodded, but did not believe her. He said: “Go over there….”

She did not understand what he wanted. She was confused. He said again, pointing: “Over there…” To the far corner, where the walls were bare on either side of the corner, and the stool she usually sat on was sitting. She was still confused but did as he said. Bob went out and talked in an aside to Mr. Miller. She sat down as she waited, she folded her hands in her lap; she felt queasy again.

Bob returned and shut the door to the workroom. He turned and grinned at her. He nodded. “You ready?”

Karen nodded but and then in a breaking voice said: “Yes…” Karen stood up, and began thinking about what she would do.

Bob said: “Good….” He took something off the workbench. She didn’t understand what he was doing. Then flash bulb popped. He held a Polaroid Land camera: the camera wheezed and the picture was shed from its slot into his hand. He laid the picture down on the workbench for its instant development. He watched it resolve into view. He took a second and laid it next to the first for development, and satisfied that they were what he wanted he looked my wife and said: “Okay… Go on….”

She did nothing. He aimed the camera, focusing, waiting. She was confused, this was not expected. He peered through the finder. She hesitated. “Go on…” he repeated. She reached over the back of her shoulder with her right hand and unfastened the hook at the nape of her neck. With her left hand strained awkwardly to draw her zipper down, she unzipped half way. She crossed her right arm across her chest to draw the sleeve and top of her dress off her shoulder. Exposing her shoulder, Bob snapped the picture. “Hold it,” he said. She paused as he took the next Polaroid fed into his hand and laid it on the workbench.

tenth installment
 

Excerpt:

She flinched when he took the shot and looked up at the camera. She asked plaintively: “Why are you taking pictures?”

Miller said: “Put your mouth on my penis, honey….” She leaned slightly, her hands on her thighs, and leaned forward and put her mouth over the head of it. “Look at me,” he said. She looked up. Bob took that picture too. He still had that one. He showed it to me. That picture gave me an erection. I think Bob knew. I felt ashamed for myself and for her. She looked so abject.

Miller put his hand on her head and said: “Might as well finish what you started…” She closed her eyes. She obediently performed as he liked it, the light mouthing, the licking around the glans to stimulate him. He soon ejaculated. She slurped and swallowed and sat back, looking up at him and as he drew up his undershorts and pants, told her to stand.

Meanwhile Bob had taken of his pants and pulled his underpants down and Karen saw his erection again, large as it was, even though not so stiff as to stand up like a young man’s, like mine, but it was so much larger Karen stared at it and Bob nudged Miller and said: “Here,” and handed the camera to Miller.

Miller took up the position to photograph and Karen was stunned.

Bob said: “We want two more pictures. One with my cock in your mouth. And one my cock in ass.”

“I don’t think you can get that thing in her ass,” said Miller with a wink at Bob.

“Not her asshole, you shit….”

He pulled her up forcibly by the hand and positioned her roughly, turning her, slapping her buttock: “Bend over dammit….” She was confused. “Put your hands on your knees….” She felt his cock slip up and deeply into her and she held her breath instinctively. Miller told her to look at the camera. Flash!

Eleventh Installment
 

Excerpt:

Again the next day she wore the blue dress. Again the bobby sock and penny loafers. I commented that I thought the dress ought to be dry-cleaned. And she looked worried and asked if I had seen anything spilled on it. I said I had not but that she had worn everyday to work for more than a week. She fidgeted when we got the jewelry shop. She did not seem to want to get out of the car. I asked again if she had to work late. She said: “Maybe a little.” She did not want me to pick her up.

She got out of the car. Mr. Miller at the front door, unlocking it for her, smiled and waved at me and I went off to work.

Karen’s own story about the day is the best that I have. Bob was not involved, or he didn’t think it was important, or Miller didn’t tell him. She was anxious most of the day. She did not know when things would happen or how. She only vaguely knew that some friends of Mr. Miller would show up and that she must take off her clothes for them. She was nervous about every middle-aged man who came into the shop. It was an unusually busy day. Mr. Miller stayed in the shop with her all morning. She began to hope that he had changed his mind, or had not meant it.

The shop was still busy at noon when Mr. Miller usually closed up. She had a customer. Mr. Miller had a customer. There were two young girls, browsing and waiting to be served. That is when the two Arthurs came in. She saw Mr. Miller nod at them and they stared at her. She felt a sick pang, a strange twinge in her groin, like a fear of falling. The customer, a middle-aged woman with more make-up and money than was decent, was obviously annoyed by her inattention. Mr. Miller finished with his customer and interceded to help Karen, excusing her, apologizing to the customer, “….the young lady has some work to do in the back.”

Karen went to the workroom. She did not know what she should do. The stool was in the corner where Bob had put it the day before. She sat on it. The two Arthurs came in. They looked at her, but seemed just as nervous as she was. No one said anything. They stayed by the door, waiting for Mr. Miller to finish with his customer. She sat without speaking, looking at the floor. If she did not look up, they stared at her. She did not look up, feeling embarrassed and anxious.

Mr. Miller was several more minutes while the three of them waited in awkward silence—these two “friends” whom she could not look at without embarrassment, old as her father, one of whom looked like a man she knew from church, who had come to see her take off her clothes; and my poor nervous blushing wife who was about to deliberately and willingly strip naked for them.

“You Mrs.____________?” One of them spoke to her. She did not look up.

They waited for her reply. “You that girl who works for Al?” The other asked.

She replied softy: “Yes….”

“You __________ ‘s wife?” Using my first name like they knew me. When she told me this Karen had asked me: “Do you really know them?” I said I may have met them. Then I remembered: I had seen them and talked to them the next night. The night after she had stripped in front of them. I remembered the strange conversation.

They said no more. Karen did not look up until Mr. Miller came into the room. He had locked the front door but he also closed the workroom door. The two men hardly moved. He had to suggest they step into the room, so that he could close the door.

They remained then at the distance of some twenty feet from where Karen sat in the corner, her hands in he lap.

Mr. Miller understood what he must do. He looked at his two friends and nodded: “You ready?”

They nodded.

He looked at Karen and asked: “You ready?”

She nodded. “Okay….” Miller sat on his stool against the workbench; he leaned against it. He poured brandy into his tea cup and looked up at Karen. “This is Arthur. And he’s named Arthur too. They know your husband.” They nodded.

He drank more of his brandy. He said again: “Okay…. Stand up….”

Karen stepped forward as she stood. She put her arms down. She looked quizzically at Mr. Miller with her head leaning; she could not look at these men. She did not want to do this. She did not understand why Mr. Miller wanted her to do this. It seemed especially bad that her husband knew them; it was like undressing for her cousins.

“Okay….” He looked at Arthur and Arthur and said: “Okay, boys…. This is Karen, __________’s wife. You can get closer to see her better, you know.” They did not move.

He looked at Karen and said with some deliberation: “You can stay standing right where you are, but once you’ve got all your clothes off, I want you to come over here closer to these guys.”

He turned back to look at the two men, who seemed as stunned as Karen felt: ““Once she’s got her clothes off, give her a feel…. That’s okay… But no fucking.”

twelfth installment
 

Excerpt:

The next day she woke up very cheerful as well. Once more she wore the blue dress, and again only her bobby socks and penny loafers because she did not wear pantyhose. She has lovely legs. She almost does not need to shave them, so her legs look nice without pantyhose; it just didn’t seem right for a business office. And I thought she wasn’t wearing her brassiere. I had thought that before, but now while I embraced her to kiss her goodbye, I felt her back and I knew for certain that she was not wearing it.

She got out of the car. I held her hand to stop her and to tell her I would meet her at Bob’s bar. I knew that Mr. Miller often when there after work, so I told her to go with him and we would meet there. I did not want her to go to work.

She smiled and said she would me see later that night, and seeing that I looked worried, she blushed for no reason that I understood, and said: “It’s alright….”

What did she mean by that? I have since wondered. That she thought what she was doing was “alright”? Or that she was not unhappy anyway? Or that she expected that none of this would ever affect me? That I would not find out? That somehow it would end like an episode on a TV show with some settling conclusion that left her and everyone happy? I can’t say. Even as we divorced, though she wept, and felt ashamed, she did not understand why it ended as it had. She thought she had not wanted anything but to please others.

Bob only knew about this day from second-hand, but he told me what he could. Karen did not admit to it until after I had learned the gist of it. She never did tell me the full details. She only said to me how nice Mr. Miller had been to her that day. She did not tell me what she meant by that. Bob told me.

When she got to work, Mr. Miller was very glad to see her and kissed her warmly almost before she got into the door. They exchanged open mouth kisses. He immediately unzipped her dress though it was eight in the morning and the front door was unlocked and as she still stood in the middle of the shop he drew off her dress even as she stood placidly and submissively for him. It fell to the floor. Naked, she did not resist him. He almost immediately entered he as she stood facing him, succumbing to his embrace, his arms enfolding hers squeezing against sides of her breast, her hands tenderly at his face and neck, yielding to his kisses, and kissing him warmly in return. They were like young lovers whose sexual desires for each other were so hot and new as to be compulsive.

This was not the act of lust; to her mind, it was the act of passion and love. He made love to her passionately, and she felt happy that she pleased him.

thirteenth installment
 

Excerpt:

She awoke to her taking another shower again in the morning. I had no need to get out of bed. I did not have to work. I was sorry she did, but it was nice to get the money.

From the bed I watched her get dress for the day: always the same practical J. C. Penny’s white cotton briefs and bra, the white cotton bobby socks which she would wear with her Penny loafers; simple neat short-sleeved white cotton blouse; a plaid pleated wool skirt. She also put on a light grey cardigan sweater, which she buttoned at the bottom, to fit it snugly about her hips. She admired herself in the mirror and put on her lipstick, a daub of rouge that she rubbed into her cheeks.

As she dressed, seeming now more cheerful than the night before—I wonder now: had she forgotten? Had she forgiven? Why did she not guess what was going to happen? Or did she know?—she explained how she would be working on inventory over the weekend, starting today, and I asked how long she would be working tonight and she said she thought it would not be very long. She kissed me goodbye and took the bus to work.

The pictures Bob showed me and his own graphic descriptions enhanced what I know about this day, but Karen had confessed to me most of it and I had pressed her for details, myself feeling a mixture of shame and sexual excitement at what she told me, just as she confessed doing it. After meeting with Bob, having seen the pictures, hearing his details, I spoke to her again, once last time before I left her for good, and she told me anything else I wanted to know. By then she was emotionally spent and was resigned to my anguish. She looked at me sadly and told me candidly what she did, how she felt, although still she was confused about her feelings and conflicted in emotions. She had been sexually aroused by what she was ashamed to be doing. She had sexually relished her humiliations and coercion. She was submissive but also wanton in her response; she had felt abused but she was also secretly intrigued and sexually craved her relentless sexual stimulation and the rolling orgasms she obtained, such as she had never before experienced. It was, as I have called it before, a sexual intoxication. She was drunk with it the whole day, only dropping from time to time in her exhaustion for a dreamless sleep. She was drunk as well with liquor for much of the time.

Mr. Miller did not tell her what was expected for the day. He had acted like nothing had happened the day before. They never talked about how he had set her up, how she had been anally ****d. He never asked her feelings about it. That was, of course, deliberate. She should submit without complaint. So he never gave her an opportunity to discuss her feelings. I have already said: this is the one thing—or well, the one of two things—which she did not herself confess to me. Even after I found out, and asked her, she did not want to talk about it. She nodded or shook her head to questions I asked. It was Miller’s suggestion that these unseen men were my own friends, peers of our own age and familiar with her, who had done this to her, had seen her naked in that humiliating circumstance, willingly stripped by her boss for them—her dress pulled up over her head—that is what troubled her. It was this shame, which she had wanted to hide from me for my sake. Otherwise, she had nodded to confess that she had gotten sexually stimulated from it, and, yes, had experienced orgasms even then. Her deep and blushing shame was evident. Especially keen for her because she believed these were my own friends, young men whom she knew, whom she had had to our home to watch TV and eat dinner, and whom she now feared had seen her abjectly naked and had shamefully fucked her in her rectum without her resistance. I, as cruelly as Miller, never told her that it was not true.

But as far she knew, that Saturday morning, she had in the space of just a little more than two weeks been seduced by Miller, had given him fellatio day after day, taking his ejaculate into her mouth, had let herself be stripped of her clothing in the presence of several men, had presented herself naked to a stranger, had permitted herself to be fucked by several men repeatedly and had given them fellatio as well, swallowing their ejaculate too, several in a row, and had most recently been naked and humiliated for the pleasure of my own friends, young men who knew her. She was tinder for flame. She was emotionally and sexually raw.

one of the polaroids (simulation)
 

Bob took this one of my wife Karen, taking her clothes off in Mr. Miller's workroom, part of the blackmail scheme.... what he would have mailed to me.... what he later showed me at the bar....

one of the polaroids (simulation)
 

Bob took this of my wife Karen, taking off her clothes in Mr. Miller's workroom... the same picture he blackmailed her with, threatening to mail it to me... he showed her later in his bar....

one of the polaroids (simulation)
 

and if Bob had used color film...

Karen on stage (simulation)
 

A scene from the last installment....

Last installment
 

Excerpt:

Bob’s’ pictures and Bob’s graphic details filled in the rest. I confronted her about the men fucking her serially and about her serially sucking off cock. This much she admitted sullenly after I had found out about it. How could she deny it anyway? I had seen photographs.

But when Bob turned to the pages pictures of the rest of that Saturday night, and showed me and told me what happened after these 17 men had fucked her c*nt, fucked her mouth, fucked her in the ass, I was incredulous. I had never even seen photographs like this. I had heard of it but had thought it something that really happened. It must be a joke. But it was not.

For one thing, in the 1970’s, young women did not shave off their pubic hair. To see a photograph of a woman with no pubic hair, a bald slit, was rare. And it was this as well as the money that forced Karen to admit to what happened. She tried to tell me that she had gone to the doctor and that the doctor had done it for an examination, but this was farfetched and an obvious lie. It was of course what Bob had told her to tell me, if I noticed that her pubic hair was gone. How was I not going to notice? Bob laughed about it and told how and why it had happened.

NOTE: this final section has a censored portion. If you want the full text, I suppose you must ask for me. I presume the administrator will permit that.

and the final scene as a polaroid
 

if Bob had color film...

Hope you enjoyed the story... will have another one soon...

thanks
 

thank you for a great story and pictures look forward to a new story.

photo simulation-Karen stripped for some of Mr. Miller's friends
 

Karen, my pretty and naïve wife, only just twenty years old and barely one year married, was told to take off her clothes by her boss, Mr. Miller, so that his middle-aged friends could see her naked. They paid him for her to do it, but still they could not believe she actually would. But she thought she was in love with Mr. Miller and she wanted Mr. Miller to love her too. She would do anything he wanted, to please him. Even letting him show her naked to his friends.

Loved it. Thank s much. Excellent story, no matter how old.