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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I thought my life was completely normal, and it was until about 3 months after my wedding when I found out my wife was not only bisexual, but that she had been sleeping with women throughout our entire relationship. Oh and that was women, as in plural, as in multiple. It started as I was flipping through some wedding photos on our computer. We had asked that anyone who had digital wedding photos to email them to us, so that we would be able to create a central record of our ‘Big Day.’
Some of the shots were funny, others were boring, and some, well, let’s just say they looked like NASA shots of deep space. I was going through some photos taken by Jane, one of my wife’s friends from college and one of her bridesmaids, when I saw a folder I had not seen before. It was labeled ‘Bachelorette Party’, and had about 20 photos in it. My wife Amanda and I had filled each other in on what had happened at her party as well as at my Bachelor party, so I did not expect anything risqué. Boy was I wrong.
I was about halfway through the photos, when the girls were partying in the Maid of Honor’s apartment, when I saw a blurry photo that stopped me in my tracks. I blinked, squinted, and turned my head sideways to make sure what I was seeing was actually a picture of my darling wife sucking on the nipple of her friend Jane. I guess that at this point of the story I should describe Jane. Jane is definitely not someone who could be described as a wallflower. She is tall, about 5’9″, with chocolate skin, big, curly hair and a curvy frame that she had to work continuously to keep from turning to fat. She takes her self-proclaimed role as a Nubian princess seriously, and since I had started dating Amanda she had never dated a guy for more than a month.
However, my thoughts were not on Jane, whose D-cups were both exposed below her lifted shirt in the picture. They were on my dear Amanda, whose lips were locked on one of those coffee-colored melons. Amanda was a dancer when she was younger, and still kept in shape. It was her legs that first caught my attention, and even now, she loved to wear skirts to work and out to the clubs, knowing that her stems still gathered attention. She was around 5’6″, her brown hair cut to shoulder length. Her frame was thin, and her A-cups looked slightly small on her frame.
I spent a long time studying this photo, and the rest of the photos in the folder, before something dawned on me. The photos were number DSC… in sequence, like all digital cameras do, and I noticed that although the photos leading up to the tit-sucking were in order, there was a gap of about 15 numbers before the next photo, which showed all the girls on their way home in a limo.
Realizing that those photos may show what happened after the tit-sucking, I decided to dig and find them. Switching over to my wife’s computer, I was able to track down the email on which Jane sent us the photos. Scanning through, I saw that the photo sequence was the same, which the gap still in place. On a hunch, I searched her computer for all pictures, and then sorted them by name. Bingo!
In a hidden folder named ‘Too hot for TV,’ I found the missing photos, and what a goldmine it was. The photos showed my wife sucking the tits of the other 2 girls at the Bachelorette party, and the other girls sucking each other. Then in the final photo, there was a shot of my wife, smiling at the camera, with her face directly next to an exposed pussy, with two fingers sunk deep into it. Without even seeing the face attached to the pussy, I could easily tell who’s snatch it was. The other two girls at the Bachelorette party were my wife’s other two closest friends, Anna and Bonnie.
Anna was Amanda’s best friend from High School, a leggy redhead who Amanda had confided to me was a complete and utter freak when it came to sex, and who I had once watched leave a bar with 3 guys.
Bonnie was Amanda’s Maid of Honor, her roommate from college who was a 5’2″, mousy Italian brunette who had been dating the same guy since I had met her. She never seemed like the freaky type, but I definitely knew that the pussy in the photo was hers. Why?
Well when your choices are a pale Irish redhead, a black woman, and a little Italian brunette, you can pretty much go on skin tone. Since this pussy was neither white nor coffee, but somewhere in between, I was sure I had found the owner of the cooch.
After examining the photos closely, I copied them to a USB drive, and put them onto my computer, right in with the ‘original’ Bachelorette party photos. I examined them again, and decided that I really did want to know what happened that night, beyond the photos.
Knowing that direct confrontation with my wife was probably not in my best interests, I decided to confront Bonnie, figuring she would be the easiest to ‘break’.
Lucky for me, Amanda and I were going to see Bonnie the next day. It was the birthday of a mutual friend, and we were all going out to the bar. It would be easy enough while there to separate Amanda from Bonnie and me, and get the little brunette to spill her secrets.
That night, my wife asked me if I was ok almanbahis adres at least seven hundred times before we got to the bar. I guess she noticed I was a little distracted and distant. Yes, I was focused on how I was going to pump Bonnie for information, but more so of wondering how well I really knew my wife.
We had attended different colleges in the same city, and even when we started dating, we had basically led separate lives, only seeing each other some nights and weekends. Until we had graduated and found jobs in the same city, it was basically a part-time relationship. So I realized there was a lot that went on that I didn’t know about.
I was pondering that fact when the taxi pulled up to the bar. After getting in and unbundled from the cold, I did a visual sweep of the bar and found that Bonnie was not there.
Slightly disappointed I would have to wait, I nursed a beer, watching a college basketball game on the bar’s TV. Amanda had run into some college friends, and was catching up for the last few years, showing off the huge rock I had given her. She was right behind me, so I could listen in on the conversation, but my input was not required beyond a basic introduction.
After a half hour or so of waiting, I finally heard a shriek of “Bonnie!” from one of the harpies conversing with my wife, and turned to see the guest of honor (well to me at least), removing her jacket.
Like I said, Bonnie was a mousy little Italian brunette, short, dark hair and skin. She was cute, if you liked tiny women. Tonight she was wearing a khaki skirt and dark blouse, obviously not the ‘come fuck me’ clothes some of the other girls here were wearing, but not exactly clothes for the convent, either.
I waited for her to greet the circle Amanda had gathered, and yelled across “Bonnie, do you want a drink?” She nodded and yelled back. I could hear her clearly say “rum and coke”, but that was not going to help, so I put my hand to my ear in an “I can’t hear you” motion, and made her push her way over to me. Once she got there, we were merely inches apart and she repeated her order. I passed this along to the bartender, who quickly mixed it up. Once she got her drink I asked “do you want to move? It’s kind of crowded here.” Knowing Bonnie wasn’t one to rock the boat, she agreed. Amanda, as I had expected, stayed with the circle of people she was talking to. So that left just Bonnie and I in the booth I found toward the back of the bar.
“Oh, that’s better” I said, once we sat down. Bonnie nodded, and sipped her coke. I noticed she looked a little uncomfortable. Perhaps she was remembering how she had my wife’s fingers in her pussy?
“So Bonnie, how’s things?” With that, we chatted, catching up. I slowly turned the conversation to the wedding, then to the bachelorette party, then the pictures.
“Hey the pictures Jane sent from the bachelorette party, and I think there’s some missing.
Could you send them to us when you get home tonight?”
Bonnie blanched as I said this, but tried to cover.
“I-I don’t have them either.”
“Oh, so you have the same gap.” She nodded, staring at her drink now.
“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t want Amanda to be missing any of the fun.” Bonnie nodded, sipping her drink from the straw.
“After all, it was your pussy her fingers were in, wasn’t it?” Bonnie froze, and looked up at me, eyes wide. Her mouth opened to say something, but unfortunately just at that moment, my wife arrived, slipping into the booth beside me and kissing my ear. Bonnie took the opportunity and shot out her side, spitting out something about an old friend before she moved to the other end of the bar, as far away from me as possible.
Amanda was not a big drinker, and was already tipsy enough that she failed to notice her best friend’s escape. She was more focused on telling me what a great guy I was, and how lucky she was, etc. Then she told me how horny she was, and I quickly closed my tab and we left. Having a two-drink maximum girl means a lot of short nights.
The ride home was uneventful. Amanda slept most of the time, head resting on my shoulder. Even if she was awake, we probably would not have talked much. I was fairly pissed that my plan had fallen apart just as it looked like I would be successful.
To make matters worse, as soon as Amanda and Bonnie talked next, Bonnie would tell my wife what had happened, and I would be busted for snooping. As we walked up the steps to our place, I finally came to the conclusion that I only had one course of action to find the truth: I had to confront my wife tonight.
Despite the fact that Amanda had just napped for the last hour, she never was one to go straight to bed when we got home. I knew she would want to change, so I waited for her to go into our room. As she removed the heels she had been wearing all night and changed into something more comfortable, I prepared the computer by opening all the necessary files on the computer. I heard her moving out of the bedroom finally, and called her into the office. She couldn’t see the photos as she walked in the room as I had minimized them. almanbahis adres
I waited until she was in the room, impatiently looking at me, before I spoke. I knew I had to surprise her and get her to admit something, and then
run with it.
“Honey, I wanted to ask you about something.”
“Sure. What?” She sounded half concerned, half pissed.
“It’s about this.” I maximized the photo of her sucking Jane’s breast, the original one. Amanda immediately blushed, and sat down on the single bed that was in the office.
“Where did you get that?” She asked, her voice shaky.
“It was in with the bachelorette photos. How come you never told me about this part of the night?”
“I – I don’t remember it. The girls must have dared me or something.” She was trying to dismiss me, but it was not going to work.
“So they must have each dared you, huh?” I flipped to the other tit-sucking photos.
“And each other.”
Amanda was quiet now, staring me down. I could not tell if she was angry or scared.
“And it must have been a big dare from Bonnie to get you to do this?” I flipped to the
final photo, where my darling wife was ring deep in a pussy. My wife’s eyes widened now, clearly shocked. Her mouth opened, but no words came.
“Must have been quite the dare. So what else went on?” I did not sound angry, I sounded curious, which is what I wanted.
“N-nothing. I don’t remember.” Amanda was unable look me in the eye now, and I knew she was lying.
“No honey, you do remember, and you are going to tell me.” I took a sterner tone, determined to get the information out of her.
“Why do you want to know?” Her voice was squeaky now, nervous above all.
“Because I want to know what kind of woman I married.” I didn’t sound angry when I said it, but Amanda still recoiled like I had pointed a gun at her.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Yes you do. I want to know what happened that night, and you’re going to tell me.” I expected some moxie at this point, expected her to question the consequences. Instead, I got the answer, which I did not expect.
“We-we just had some girl fun. Sucked each other’s boobs.”
“What about you and Bonnie?”
“We-we ate each other a little.”
“A little? Your face is covered in juices in that photo.” It wasn’t, but I was willing to bluff a little.
“Ok, more than a little.” She still faced the floor, ashamed.
“Did you eat out the other girls?”
She hesitated before answering. “No. No. Just Bonnie that night.”
I opened my mouth to verify that answer, and realized she had phrased it that way specifically. Like she’d… “That night. What about other nights? Did you eat them out then?”
Amanda winced now, hugging herself with her arms, rocking a little on the couch, but not answering.
“Amanda, have you eaten out other women?” She shuddered a little now, my words cutting her.
“Amanda, look at me. Look at me. Have you eaten out other women?” She finally looked up, and I saw her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks red, and that tears were starting to form. She looked at me for a few seconds, and finally blubbered:
“Yes. I have. I’ve done them all, ok. I’m a box muncher.” With that admission, the tears flowed freely.
I was a little ashamed now of making my wife cry, but now I was more pissed than curious. My wife had sex with other women? It wasn’t just a one night thing?
“Amanda, who else. What other girls have you done things with?”
“All of them. All the girls. Never together, but all of them.”
“All of your bridesmaids?” She nodded, staring at the floor again, tears streaming down her face. I sat back for a second to let it all sink in, and a thought shot from the back of my brain, like an urgent message. Nicole! Her sister! Amanda’s younger sister was a bridesmaid!
“Even Nicole?”
I asked it quietly, hoping to give Amanda a little redemption. Instead, she let out another big cry, and looked up, nodding.
Her younger sister! My mind was overloaded by the fact my wife had deceived me so badly. I was still dealing with this when Amanda spoke.
“I’m sorry.” It squeaked out in between sobs.
“For what?” I asked, exasperated.
“For not telling you, what I am, what I’ve done.”
“Not for doing it. You’re not sorry for cheating on me.” There was a long silence as my anger had finally boiled over. I stared at my wife, eyes not leaving her crying face, which looked nowhere but the floor three feet in front of her. Finally her crying subsided a little, and she spoke.
“I’m sorry for that too. But its part of who I am. I’ve been with them since before I met you.”
“With them? What do you mean by that? What
are you, some big lesbian orgy group?”
“No!” Of anything I said, that was what she took offense to. My use of the words ‘lesbian orgy’.
“We only pair up now or then. The bachelorette party was the first time I’d been with any of them since college.”
“What about your sister.”
My voice was cold, emotionless, even though my brain was racked almanbahis adres by Amanda’s words.
“That was only once. The night… the night before the wedding. The girls wanted to give me one last night. I don’t think Nicole knew what was going to happen, until it happened. But she… she joined in.”
“I don’t want to hear this.” But I did.
I needed to know it all, so I could get past it.
“I’m sorry” she whispered again. She’d stopped crying, but she still could not look at me. I did not blame her. My look probably would have killed her.
At this point, I’d had enough for the night. I had found out that not only was my wife into women, she’d cheated on me with them, including her sister, only hours before she walked down the aisle. I stood up suddenly, looming over my emotionally destroyed wife.
“I’m going to bed” I said, still no emotion in my voice. “You can stay here.” This elicited a new round of sobbing, and as I left the room, I saw Amanda turn over onto the bed, curling up in a fetal position, crying.
I will not lie and say I did not sleep that night. The night was so emotionally draining that after an hour of trying to process what I had learned, I finally passed out. I guess the night’s event carried over to my dreams as well.
I dreamed that the evening started the same at the bar, but instead of confronting Bonnie, I confronted Anna. As I mentioned earlier, Anna was 90% leg, long legs that she kept as tanned as her pale, Irish complexion would allow. She had the vocabulary of a sailor, and the sex drive of a porn star. The first time I met her, she asked if I made Amanda cum yet, a comment that looking back was probably her comparing our sexual skills. I also knew Anna had enough notches to fill all four bedposts.
Back to the dream, I dreamed that when I confronted Anna, who was for some reason dressed in her bridesmaid dress, flowers and all, she admitted everything and offered to make it up to me. My dream ended with a vision of Amanda and Anna intertwined, legs wrapped around each other, each giving the other oral pleasure.
I awoke with a start, fully aware that it was a dream, and I was still alone in bed. Light had just started to peek through the window, the haze of dawn, and I knew it was still several hours until I would normally get up. I lay there, wrestling with what had happened, what my wife had admitted, and the future.
Strangely, I realized that I was madder at her for deceiving me, for running around my back, than her actual actions. The more I thought of it, in fact, the more the thought of my wife having sex with women turned me on, rather than off.
Finally, after a couple hours of thinking it over, I decided how to handle the situation. Getting up, I threw on a pair of jeans and t-shirt of the boxers I had slept in, and walked back to the office. Amanda was still lying there, facing me now, and shivering slightly in her tank top and shorts. The bed was not made up for sleeping normally, and she obviously had not gotten up to get a blanket during the night. Her only warmth was provided by our dog, who had curled up at her feet.
When I appeared at the doorway, the dog stretched and got up, expecting breakfast. I let it walk by me, and sat in the desk chair again, resuming our positions from the night before.
“We need to talk” I said, locking eyes with my wife.
“I’m upset about what you did, but I can forgive you. Give me some time.” Amanda nodded, eyes tearing up again.
“But I think we need to even things out.” I let those words hang in the air.
“What do you mean?” She croaked, voice hoarse from her crying.
“I want what you had.” I said, not smiling, but not angry.
“What do you mean? What I had?” Amanda lifted her head now, a quizzical look on her face.
“I want to see you with them. Each of them. And I want them too.”
“My friends?” She asked, still puzzled.
“Yes.”
“You want to.. sleep with each of them?”
“And you too. Just once each.”
“I-I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She looked a little scared again.
“I do. I think it’s a way to give me closure.”
“But..” she started.
“Think about it.” I interjected. ” Give it twenty-four hours. But I think that’s the best way to repair what’s happened.”
My piece said, I got up again, and left the room. Even though it was Sunday, I decided to go into the office for a couple hours to give Amanda time to clear her head and think about my proposal. I figured that if I gave her time, she would agree to it, as I could do a lot worse based on her actions. I quickly changed into clothes appropriate for working on a Sunday, and slipped out of the house without running into my wife again.
A couple hours turned into a couple more, and my stomach was growling for dinner by the time I finally left the office. Breakfast had been skipped and lunch had come from a vending machine, so I was one hungry beast when I left the office. That and almost a full day of work had reset my mind, and it was not until I slammed my car door in our driveway that I remembered why I had gone into work in the first place. Nervous about what to expect when I walked in the door, I took a deep breath, scanning the windows as if I might be able to see the future through them, and headed inside with a sense of worry.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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