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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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--------------------------------------------------------
A short story by Skybo Vromaghaven, ©2005, all rights 
reserved. This is a work of fiction and all characters 
herein are totally fictional. Any resemblance to 
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The 
material herein is adult in nature and contains 
profanity and sexual acts; persons offended by such 
should not read further. 
--------------------------------------------------------

From New Orleans
by Skybo Vromaghaven (skybov@hotmail.com)

***

A Wife is taken while husband is forced to watch; was 
she willing or not? (MMF, wife, voy, exh)

***

"I don't care how it looks, I'm tired of riding, I need 
to pee and I'm thirsty," said Jessica, "so stop the 
damn car."

She was in a shitty mood, had been since last night in 
New Orleans. The whole trip was coming apart. Jessica 
had been hell to live with since she had the kid about 
six months ago. She had always been a damn good looking 
woman—great figure, lovely face, with big brown eyes 
contrasting with the light blonde hair. Everyone 
thought she bleached it, but I knew better. 

I know the kid took up a lot of her time but she was 
always busy, or tired, or complaining about how she 
looked. I thought she looked fine—good as ever—but she 
could always find something that wasn't right. I'd been 
working a lot lately, our company had merged with 
another company and I was doing all I could to make 
sure I was one of the ones who got to stay on. 

Our sex life had been zip; she was too tired or too 
something most of the time. About the only time she 
wanted to was in the morning when I was having to leave 
for work and I couldn't take time. Anyway, things had 
been getting worse for us the past few months so we 
decided to take the trip to New Orleans to try and get 
away, maybe relax and go back a few steps to when our 
relationship had been better. 

The weekend started off bad when she couldn't find 
anything to wear. We were packing, and she must have 
been through three dozen outfits. This was too small, 
this was too tight, this one was too old, this one too 
whatever. I told her just pick something and let's go, 
if she needed anything we could find something there. I 
mean, shit! We are trying to get away for a weekend and 
she's worried about the clothes. It's not like New 
Orleans has a dress code or anything. 

No sooner than we got there, the cell phone was 
ringing. It was Nancy, my assistant, calling about some 
stuff from work. Talk about bad timing. Jessica has 
never liked Nancy. Nancy has some big tits that she is 
real proud of and likes to show off. At the Christmas 
party, she wore a dress with slits down the side under 
the arms and no bra. Half the time you could see nipple 
and all from the side. Jessica said I was staring at 
them, and maybe so, but it was difficult to avoid them 
with her waving them around like that. 

Nancy called about three more times, the last time 
while we were eating dinner. Jessica was getting more 
and more pissed. I think Jessica suspects that there is 
something going on between me and Nancy, but there 
isn't. I have to admit that Nancy has been looking real 
good lately, especially with things sour between me and 
Jessica, but I have been straight, unless you count 
patting Nancy on the ass a few times and really 
enjoying feeling her tits rubbing up against my arm 
when we had to be working on something together. I may 
have kissed her a few times and played with her boobs, 
but I have never fucked her.

Anyway, we had a few drinks with dinner, then went into 
the lounge to dance some. I thought things were 
starting to go pretty well, we had a few more drinks 
and danced real close together. I slid my hand down on 
her ass while we were dancing, and she ground her pussy 
up against me. I got a hard-on while we were dancing 
and was damn glad it was dark when we went back to the 
table. 

They had rotated waitresses while we were dancing and 
our new waitress stopped by to ask if we needed any 
more drinks. She had a name tag on—Nancy, and a huge 
pair of tits practically hanging out on display. I 
turned around and there they were damn near in my face 
and I spilled my drink. 

Jessica started going off again. It was just too much, 
the Nancy's and the tits and the liquor and all. She 
got up and hauled her ass to the room. I stayed and 
paid out, then went on up. She had gone into the 
bedroom bar and helped herself to a couple of 
miniatures of bourbon before I got there. It started 
over, about me and tits and Nancy and all. We both lost 
our temper and it ended up with me sleeping on the 
sleeper sofa. 

The next morning we both had hangovers, and finally got 
the stuff together and checked out about 2 pm. We 
missed both breakfast and lunch but with the hangovers, 
it didn't seem like we missed a lot. She wasn't 
speaking much to me, and I knew better than to try to 
make conversation when she was in one of these moods. 
We were taking a short cut one of the guys at work had 
told me about, but I think I must have taken a wrong 
turn somewhere. 

We ended up on a two lane road out in the middle of the 
swamps and hadn't seen much of anything for about 20 
minutes except for a few dead snakes on the road. Large 
dead snakes. It was getting late afternoon and I didn't 
have a hell of a lot of gas. No road markers. 

Jessica asked if I had any idea where we were, and I 
said "sure," a lot more confidently than I felt. 

"Stop and ask." She knew me pretty well.

"Stop where and ask who" I said, "We haven't seen 
anything but dead snakes for 20 miles. 

"What about that place up there on the left?" she 
asked.

I hadn't seen it; a low unpainted wood building with a 
gravel parking lot, it blended into the trees along the 
side of the road. There was a sign over the door, 
saying "BAR" in white letters on an unpainted board.

"Looks a little scruffy to me" I said. That's where we 
came in.

"I don't care how it looks, I'm tired of riding, I need 
to pee and I'm thirsty," said Jessica, "so stop the 
damn car." 

I pulled into the parking lot; we were the only car. I 
thought the place might be closed. No house nearby, 
just a path leading off into the swamp. I hoped that 
wasn't the restroom. Spooky looking place; big live 
oaks, Spanish moss trailing down and moving slowly in 
the light breeze. Cypress boards weathered black. Smell 
of honeysuckle or something sweet in the air. Door 
painted green, weathered and flaking. Looked like a 
movie set for some decadent southern movie.

"Let me check it out" I said, but she was already out 
of the car and headed toward the door. We went in, and 
when our eyes got accustomed to the dark we saw three 
men at the bar and a bartender. They were somewhat 
roughly dressed locals, who just watched us without 
saying anything. The bartender was one of those thin 
whipcord Cajuns; a life of heat and work in the swamps 
and oil fields had pulled every bit of fat out of his 
body. 

He could have been anywhere from 30 to 60. Dark 
complexion, dark curly hair cut short. White teeth, 
probably never had a cavity in his life. Green eyes 
contrasting with the dark hair and complexion. He wore 
a plaid cotton shirt, khaki pants, and moccasins with 
no socks. Two of the other men were average size, in 
cotton shirts and levis. The big guy looked like a 
wrestler, but was probably an oil field worker. He had 
on jeans and a t-shirt. His arms were thicker than my 
legs.

No air conditioning in the place, but with the big live 
oaks keeping the sun off and the ceiling fans moving 
the air, it wasn't too bad. Still, I felt 
uncomfortable, like I didn't belong here. "Lets go on," 
I said," I'm not sure what we are getting into here."

"I told you I have to pee and I'm not going into the 
woods to do it, Where's the ladies room," she asked 
them. 

The bartender pointed to a door with no sign on it. 
Jessica opened the door, looked inside, and then 
disappeared through it. Nobody spoke, so I just stood 
there. Seemed like ten minutes before Jessica came back 
out. A damn long ten minutes.

"Let's go, hon," I said, and took her arm. 

She pulled back and said "I told you I was thirsty." 

"What ya'll want" said the bartender, with a soft Cajun 
accent. It was the first thing anyone had said to us 
since we came in. 

"Can you make a margarita" Jessica said.

The bartender nodded, looked at me, and said "you?" 

I said "Bud," he nodded again and pointed at a table 
next to the pool table. We sat down, and in a few 
minutes the bartender brought a margarita and a bottle 
of Bud to the table. Said his name was Tibideaux and 
this was his place, and welcomed us. The others started 
playing pool, quietly. 

Jessica finished the margarita in no time, and signaled 
for another. I was a little worried about her drinking 
fast on an empty stomach, but considering what had 
happened the last few days, I hesitated to say anything 
about it. While the bartender was mixing the margarita, 
she got up, walked over to the Juke box and put some 
money in it. 

I sipped my beer and watched her. I could tell she was 
starting to feel the liquor, but she was far from being 
drunk, just getting a glow on. I thought that might 
help things—she might actually be in a decent mood for 
a change. 

After she selected the songs, she nodded for me to come 
up and dance with her. We danced to a couple of fast 
songs. She wasn't putting on a show or anything, but I 
could tell she was dancing for the audience. The four 
men were watching us (her) and smiling. They were 
enjoying the little performance. 

Like I said, she wasn't doing anything blatantly 
sexual; still, she was looking damn good on the dance 
floor. I felt kind of like one of those brass poles in 
a stripper bar, the ones the girls use for a dance 
prop. After the second dance she stopped and looked 
around the room.

"Who's next," she asked. The men looked at each other, 
then all looked at Tibideaux. He walked out from behind 
the bar, and walked over to Jessica. About that time a 
slow, sexy song started. Damn bitch, she knew what was 
coming—she played the songs. They started dancing, 
about a cigarette pack apart, nothing I wouldn't feel 
like a fool complaining about. He was dancing with her 
like she was someone else's wife, someone whom he 
respected. I began to relax somewhat. 

They talked a lot, low, where no one else could hear 
what they were saying. She laughed a couple of times, 
seemed to be having a lot of fun. I haven't seen that 
much lately. When the song ended, he walked her back to 
the table and thanked her for the dance. She said the 
pleasure was all hers, and ordered us another round of 
drinks. 

"We need to be getting on the road," I said. "It's 
getting late and we still don't know where we are. 
Anyway, if I drink much more I won't be able to drive."

"Tommy," she said, "This is the most fun I've had in a 
while, and it is only about 10 miles more to the 
interstate. There are motels there and gas stations, so 
we don't have to worry."

"You know all this?" I asked.

"Tibbie told me while we were dancing," Jessica said. 
"He said there were two motels and three gas stations 
there. He also said I didn't have to worry here, there 
were no cell phones and no big-titted Nancies around 
here, so we could relax and have a good time. The 
Sheriff is his cousin, and they won't bother anyone 
between here and the interstate unless they absolutely 
can't stay on the road."

"Jesus, did you tell him our life story?"

"No, we were just talking. He's easy to talk to, like a 
friend. He doesn't come on to you or anything, he's 
just nice." 

"What else did you tell him?"

"Nothing, we just talked. He said it was normal for me 
to be depressed and worry about everything after having 
Timmie. He said almost all women go through that, and 
feel insecure and unattractive. He also said I should 
hang on and trust you, and that you probably weren't 
running around. Are you?"

That caught me cold. Here I was nodding and going along 
with the conversation, then that "are you" question 
slipped in there like a sharp little knife. 

I was thinking, no, I'm not, not really; I might have 
fooled around a little, but I'm not having an affair. 
By the time I managed to get the "Of course not" out, I 
could tell from her eyes that I had taken too long and 
that she thought the answer was probably yes.

She picked her drink up, finished it off, and signaled 
for another. I really wanted to say something, but at 
this point I didn't know what to say that wouldn't get 
me into trouble, so I just sat quietly and sipped on my 
beer. Tibideaux—Tibbie—brought us two more. By this 
time I really needed to take a leak, so I asked about 
the men's room.

"Same one," said Tibbie. 

I got up and went to the john. It was plain, but clean. 
Rubber machine on the wall; three colors, four flavors, 
and something called a "ruff and ready." I wondered if 
Jessica had noticed, then figured what the hell, they 
are putting them in women's johns now so no big deal. 
No hot water, but real paper towels instead of that hot 
air machine.

When I got back, my beer was on the table, and Jessica 
was sitting on the pool table holding her margarita. 
Tibbie was propped back against the pool table a foot 
or so away, talking with her. 

When I walked out, she sat her margarita down on the 
edge of the table, hopped down, went back to the Juke 
box, and started feeding it again. When the music 
started, she again beckoned me to dance, this one a 
slow number. She danced like a wife at a business 
social, nice but proper. Still, it was a good sign and 
I thought maybe I was getting back in her good graces. 
The second dance was fast, then, when it was over, she 
stepped back and looked at Tibbie. 

Without a word, he walked over to her and took her in 
his arms as the music began. The cigarette pack 
distance between them had shrunk to about half by now, 
but they still were not touching anywhere but where 
they were supposed to. Their eyes were locked and they 
weren't talking, just looking into each other's eyes 
intensely. The distance between them slowly continued 
to shrink until they were barely touching, just the 
lightest of touches. 

Her breasts lightly brushed against his shirt; as they 
moved her thighs would gently move against his, her 
whole body occasionally touching his in the movement of 
the dance. His hand was low in her back, just above her 
buttocks, guiding her movements as they danced. The 
music was intense, and I have never in my life seen 
such tension between two people. 

The song ended. They stood there for a moment, then 
separated. Jessica walked back to the pool table, and 
hopped up beside her margarita. Tibbie walked back to 
her and stood in front of her, a few inches away, 
standing there just between her knees as she sat on the 
pool table with them spread. Her skirt was up just 
above her knees, not too high. Not yet. Her blouse was 
damp with sweat and a light sheen of perspiration made 
her forehead and upper lip glow.

"Girl, don't know why you're so worried about those 
women's tits. You a damn good looking woman, if you 
hadn't told me you had a kid six months ago I'd have 
never guessed. You ain't second to nobody."

"I can't seem to keep my husband; and he can't keep his 
eyes off other women's breasts even when I am with 
him."

"Show me your breasts."

She never even looked at me, just kept her eyes locked 
on his as she began to unbutton her blouse. I didn't 
know what to do. I started to get up and felt two big 
hard hands on my shoulders pushing me back into my 
seat. 

The largest of the men in the bar was standing behind 
my chair, with his hands on my shoulders. He whispered 
"You just sit still, mister; Tibbie ain't gone hurt 
her. You ain't heard her say no, have you?" The other 
two were standing on either side of my chair. 

She slowly unbuttoned the blouse, undid the center 
clasp of her bra, then held the clothes open as her 
breasts swung free.
"Damn those are pretty, they the prettiest I have ever 
seen. Not the biggest, but they the prettiest. You 
something else, girl. Those need to be kissed."

She propped her arms back on the pool table, and 
shrugged her shoulders allowing the blouse and bra to 
fall off her shoulders, then put her shoulders back and 
stuck her tits proudly forward. Tibbie stuck his finger 
in her margarita, then traced the cold salty liquor 
around her nipple. The nipple had been erect, but now 
it popped out like it was going to explode. 

He bent his head, and began to kiss her right breast, 
cupping it between both hands. Licking and sucking the 
nipple, he gently massaged the breast, then went back 
for some more margarita. As he put the liquor on her 
nipple, he gently but firmly pulled the nipple several 
times, then went back to sucking on it. His left hand 
stayed on the right breast as he moved his right hand 
over to her other breast and began mimicking with his 
fingers what his lips and teeth were doing to the right 
breast. 

She began shuddering with an orgasm, clamping her knees 
together tightly with him standing between them. She 
must have come for fifteen or twenty seconds, then she 
relaxed her arms and, as Tibbie released her, lay back 
on the table.

Tibbie unbuckled his belt and dropped his khakis, then 
rolled them up and put them beneath her head as a 
pillow. He then stepped aside, removed her panties, and 
stepped back between her knees. He began to gently 
stroke her thighs, working his way up, then skipping 
over her pubic area first began gently caressing her 
abdomen and that blonde pubic hair, then working his 
hands under her buttocks and massaging her butt. 

As he worked her butt, you could see the way it pulled 
and pushed pressure on her pubic area. She was leaned 
back and just enjoying the feeling. As he kept on 
alternating between her belly, buttocks and thighs, she 
began to be more and more aroused, pushing her pubic 
area toward his hand each time his fingers danced over 
it, and moaning low. 

Once more he dipped his finger into the margarita, then 
began to lightly trace it on her vulva lips. She came 
again at his first touch, then seemed to keep on 
coming. He lowered his head and began to lick and suck 
on her pussy. She was out of control, grinding her 
sopping pussy into his face and screaming "I'm coming, 
oh God I'm coming again."

Meanwhile, the two unoccupied men had gone over to 
either side of her, and got on the pool table beside 
her. They began kissing her nipples and fondling her 
breasts as she went through orgasm after orgasm from 
Tibbie's attention to her pussy.

Tibbie stood up, and taking her panties from the table 
beside her, wiped his face with the panties then put 
them in his shirt pocket. He dropped his undershorts 
and kicked them aside, then moving back between her 
knees reached under her buttocks and slid her to the 
edge of the table, with her pussy right at the edge and 
her legs hanging off. 

On another occasion I might have thought it was funny 
to see him standing there with a raging hard on, 
wearing only his shirt and moccasins, but he was 
getting ready to fuck my wife and there was nothing I 
could do about it. He lifted her legs to his shoulders, 
and began to rub his penis up and down in the slit 
where his tongue had been just a few short seconds ago. 

He put his left hand on her pubic hair, and began 
massaging her mound, spreading and compressing her 
pussy. Guiding it with his right hand, he moved his 
dick up and down the wet slit, touching her clit then 
sliding down to her ass, then back again. Every time he 
passed her pussy, she would push toward him, trying to 
get him inside. With the teasing on her pussy and the 
two mouths working on her tits she was back on the 
mountain and going crazy again.
 
When she started begging for it, he pushed his dick 
into her pussy and began to pump, slowly and deeply. 
When he had it in to the fullest, he would work his 
buttocks from side to side, moving the dick around 
inside her, then slowly withdrawing it almost to the 
head, the repeating the cycle gradually gaining speed 
until he was pumping and grinding away at her like a 
madman. 

He had hold of her hips and was pulling her against him 
as hard as he could. She began drumming her heels 
against his back, then stiffened in a tremendous 
orgasm, holding her legs straight out above them. When 
she relaxed, he moved away, and used her panties to 
wipe off his soaked and now limp dick.

One of the two men working on her breasts slid off the 
table and moved toward her while the remaining man 
continued to work on both breasts, kissing and kneading 
them, and pulling on her now red and swollen nipples.

The new man dropped his pants and underwear and began 
to touch her pussy. He slid his dick into her wet and 
ready slit, and she began responding to it. This was 
nothing like the first time, but she was so hot and 
ready she didn't care. He didn't last long and was soon 
pumping his hot come into her—before she was ready. 
"Damn you, finish it, don't leave me hanging here" she 
said.

The third man slid off and approached her, his pants 
bulging. "You don't gotta do this you don't want to," 
he said, " but I sure do want some that sweet pussy." 
When he dropped his clothes, I saw the huge bulge 
wasn't even fully hard yet. It must have been nine 
inches long and thick as a beer can.

She moaned softly as he rubbed it against her wet and 
already stretched pussy to get it lubricated, then, as 
he slowly slid into her, she began to quiver with the 
orgasm she'd almost had with the previous man. He kept 
moving slowly as she came, then began to work her 
faster and faster, pounding deeper and deeper into her. 
The sight of his dark dick sliding into the pink pussy 
beneath the blonde pubes was something I will never 
forget.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—fuck me, fuck me, fuck 
me" she cried. She was going crazy on that huge pole, 
and she sat up with him fucking away, and wrapped her 
arms around him. He stepped back from the table and 
held her by her buttocks, impaled on his huge manhood. 
He slowly sat down on the floor, then lay back and she 
was now above him, riding that meat monster with all 
her energy. 

She was writhing her hips and massaging her own tits, 
pulling the nipples with abandon. When he started 
coming in her, she also began coming, and collapsed 
forward and held him tightly. They lay that way a few 
minutes as his engorged dick shrank, then as he 
withdrew with a slurping noise he slid out from under 
her. He gently picked her up and put her back on the 
pool table. She laid her head back on the pillow of 
Tibbie's trousers, exhausted and apparently completely 
fucked out.

Tibbie walked over to me and said, "Damn fine woman, 
your wife, too damn good for you. Why are you fucking 
around on her when you can get this at home?"

I started to explain that I was not fucking around on 
her, but he just said "Bullshit, you either fuckin 
around or you fixin to!"

"Way I see it" he said "one of two things gonna happen. 
You gon fuck up and blame this on her, and you gonna 
lose the best thing you ever had, or you gon show her 
you love her and ask her to forgive you. Ain't nothing 
wrong with her, she jus need to be appreciated and know 
she loved. Which one you gon do?"

I said "I don't think I can handle this right now."

"Bullshit, you got a damn hard-on watching. You just 
worried about your pride. Fuck your pride. Your pride 
gon lose you a woman that is a hell of a lot better 
than anything else you ever gon find. That woman loves 
you, she just a little fucked up and disappointed right 
now and that's your damn fault. She feels like she ain 
pretty no more and that she can't keep your attention 
as a man. And you helpin her feel that way. Which way 
you gon go? You gon leave or you gon show her you love 
her."

"I'm not leaving."

"Then show her."

"What?"

"Show her, you know what I mean, show her you love 
her."

"but..."

"Show her!"

He was right, I did have a raging hard on, even after 
all this. I walked over to where she lay. She wouldn't 
look at me.

"I love you, Jessica."

No answer.

"I love you, Jess."

"I didn't say tell her, I said show her." (a pause) 
"Show her or lose her."

I used my hand to turn her face toward me, then bent 
over and kissed her gently on her lips. For the longest 
time she was totally passive, then she began to kiss me 
back.

"Show her."

I looked at him, and he looked down at her wet, 
reddened pussy, and he nodded. I kissed her again, and 
began to slide my kisses down across her breasts, down 
to and through her pubic hair, then to her pussy 
itself. I pulled away, dropped my clothes on the floor, 
moved around and climbed on the pool table between her 
legs. Starting where I left off, I began to gently kiss 
her swollen pussy. Her hands cupped the back of my 
head, guiding my lips. 

Her clit was over-sensitized, and painful even to my 
gentle touch, so I kissed around it, and plumbed the 
depths of her pussy with my tongue. She responded to my 
touches, holding my face closer to her pussy. I moved 
my kisses up to her breasts, and my penis was rubbing 
against her still soaking pussy. 

I got harder and harder as I kissed her breasts, 
forgetting completely about the other men in the room, 
thinking only of her. My dick slid into her on its own, 
going easily into her wet, stretched pussy. I pumped in 
and out, feeling the orgasm building. I wrapped my arms 
around her, pulling her to me as I began coming. She 
started her own orgasm about that time, and we finished 
together.

I had no idea what to do from this point. Here we were, 
my wife and I, naked, on a pool table, in a strange bar 
in Louisiana. We got up and began to find our clothes. 
We got dressed, got in the car, and left. After going 
about ten miles, we got to the interstate and checked 
into a motel. 

The guy at the desk looked at me strangely — I looked 
as though I had been ridden hard and put away wet — but 
he took my credit card and gave me a room. We went in 
and after calling the parents and arranging for them to 
keep Timmie one more night, I showered while she took a 
long hot bath, and we collapsed into bed. She started 
crying, and I held her in my arms. We slept entwined.

We still have a lot to work out and I don't know how it 
will turn out, but I do know that the first thing I 
need to do when I get back to the office is transfer 
Nancy.

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 35