Ashley 's Addiction

This is fiction. No fancied characters were harming in the written material of this story.

Ashley and I are practically newlyweds. We have been married just over one yr and still getting to fuck each other. We met in college, as many young married coupled have done, and it was a whirlwind romance. We were both seniors and met in a statistic and Probability class for our Business shoal degrees. She was a Finance Major, and I was a Marketing Major. Math is not my inviolable cortege, so I asked Ashley to tutor me. That was the start of our romanticism, and I was instantly smite with her. She was a rarefied jazz band of stunner and brains that I fell in love with. She helped me buy the farm that stratum. She was a maven at calculating probabilities and doing jeopardy depth psychology. We both graduated that Spring, and I asked her to marry me.

We both got career caper associated with our different degrees. I went into Corporate gross revenue with my selling Degree, and she went into the insurance policy diligence and got a Risk Analysis post. For our wedding she invited a cadre of guys whom I had never met. They were all employment partner, and she seemed very close to them. Two of the Guy happened to have gone to our same university and knew her there. In fact, one of them was responsible for for her being hired for the job she got.

mortal at her company started a football pot and even though she knew nothing about football, she began betting on the outcome of college and pro football games. She quickly became fanatical about watching all the games and had spreadsheets in front of her about player and statistic. She was very enthusiastic about the effect of these games, and I could not understand until one day she let it slip that she was betting on the outcomes.

Ashley had a good income, and I did not care that she was betting money on these secret plan, as long as it remained a friendly and manageable sum of money each hebdomad. She'd be happy when one game ended if she had bet right, but when the very next secret plan started, she'd be all wound up about that biz's termination. Betting on these plot became her whole focus of the week. I was beginning to get a bit concerned.

When football time of year was over, her group would go on to former contour of gambling. They had poker night at various guy's menage one day a week and she'd be gone for hours on those nights. I was not a card histrion and had no interest in just sitting there watching a poker biz, so I never went. She'd come plate after a hanker dark of fire hook playing and be exhausted. She'd submit a shower and go directly to bed. We had sex, like most young married couples every night, except her poker nights.

Having sex with Ashley was always the highlight of my day. She has heavy sensitive teat and wide bosom, and she is an adventurous sex pardner. When she and I would role play she was always the person taking risk of exposure and pushing the edge of our sex lifespan, which I loved. Ashley would dissemble to be a richly finance person, betting on the termination of a business deal, and we would often pretend that she lost on her bet. She'd have to do some special sex act for me if she lost. I loved playing that plot.

I learned, quite by accident, that she would make bet with her poker playing buddies the same way. If she lost a big hand, she might have to hold off her top. I found out when she came home one night and had forgotten to put her bra back on. I saw her sort of sneak into the house, and I noticed her mamilla were unaffixed under her sweater and saw her outstanding nipples poking out of the material. I asked her about it, and she said her bra was uncomfortable and took it off on her drive back dwelling. I did not think much about it until it happened more than a few times.

When she began playing on Saturday dark, without me, of line, it began eating into our time together. I decided I needed to know more than about the game that she was playing and her grouping of men that she played with. I asked her if I could join her one of those nights. She was not happy with that but did it anyway to placate me, I suppose.

I went with her to her poker Night. They had a card table set up and there were four men and her playing. I was watching TV in another room and not paying a great deal aid to their biz when I heard vocalism of the men, cheering on some upshot. I peeked into the biz arena and saw her on her human knee, giving one of the guy rope a blowjob. She had her sassing locked around this guy's cock and was feverishly sucking him.

I walked into the elbow room just as he climaxed. I watched as he pulled his cock from Ashley's lip and jacked off all over her cheek. I was dumb struck. I ran in and demanded to experience what was going on. She just looked at me and explained that she lost a speculative hand and owed the winner the BJ. I began yelling, and told her to get cleaned up, that we were leaving. She just looked at me with a pose saying on her face, as she wiped his cum off that was dripping down her chin. She said,"What is your problem ? It is only a cock sucking !"

I asked her as we drove habitation how often she had to perform a sex act as part of the poker night. She confessed it happened quite often. It was a way for her to bet on a risky hand without having to pay any money. I was astonished. I told her no more stove poker nights. She was pissed off and went to bed in our Edgar Guest room that night. We did not have sex again for a week.

Ashley began traveling for her employment on overnight assignments. I did not empathize why a Risk Assessment mortal would need to go out of town for a meeting, but kept my mouthpiece shut. Supposedly the company paid for her hotel and travel monetary value, so I never saw any spending for her travel. I watched her demeanor and could see that every travel date was on the same day of the week, each week. I paid care to her clothing she packed, and it was standard stuff. But one time, in the winter, she was supposedly going to Chicago for a coming together, and she did not tamp a cloggy coat. The airport in Chicago was closed due to a winter violent storm, but she claimed to have stayed there anyway. She came home the next Night, like convention and did not mention the arctic term in Chicago.

She began making sober income from her job, and we depended on it for our lifestyle. I knew something was going on, but I did not know how to handle it. On her next week's overnight trip, I took a day off from my job and followed her to act upon. I had put a tracking device on her phone, to see if she was still in her home office. She was, all day, but had told me she was going to an out-of-town node coming together. Then the trailing device showed me that she drove to a common soldier home in our arena. I drove to her position and saw various railway car parked in the Lapplander driveway that she was also parked in. This was a typical suburban house with a fenced back yard. I saw one of the cat whom I recognized from her house role arrive late to that Same house. I did not know what to do. I sped off and went to a local pub to class out in my caput what she might be up to.

About two hours later I drove back to that household, not knowing how to confront her. I slipped into the household's back K and made my way around to one of the windows so I could see in. There was a table of men, and Ashley, playing calling card. I spied on them for at to the lowest degree a one-half hour and was ready to get out. Then suddenly the room erupted, and all the men were ecstatic about some outcome. Ashley threw her cards on the mesa, apparently losing that paw. Then she began taking off her dress. And all the men in the way began doing the same think. She quickly stripped au naturel and climbed on top of one of the naked men who was now seated on the couch. She climbed on his lap, and I could see her guide his gumshoe into her cunt. There was another man who stood behind her and then shoved his dick in her too. I could not tell if he was in her ass, but that is what it looked like from where I stood.

The other guys surrounded them on the sofa, and she was jacking off soul while some other guy stood behind the lounge. Ashley began sucking that guy's incision. The unhurt group of men apparently knew they were going to fuck her. I watched in astonishment. I could not believe my married woman was fucking all those guys during a calling card game. What really amazed me was that I got an erection as I watched. She fucked the guy under her until he apparently came in her. Then the guy behind her frantically fucked her, then pulled out. I presumed he had cum too. Another guy stepped in and began fucking her ass when the first guy pulled out.

I watched for another hour. Ashley had changed stance and was hanging off the couch with her mind and berm on the flooring. Her ass was still on the lounge, and I could clearly see that every man took a turn fucking her ass, then moved down and presented their shaft for her to lactate. She was doing an Ass to Mouth power train with every guy there. Every man would pull out of her ass and cum in her mouth or on her face. And she always sucked them off when they were done shooting their cum. During all this, I had pulled out my own dick and was stroking it as I watched her fuck all those guy. I climaxed and scene my load on the brick rampart of the sign, just underneath the windowpane I was spying on her from.

Then individual decided that the party needed to move to another part of the family and all of them went upstairs, probably to a bedchamber, to continue fucking. I felt demented to my belly. I did not experience if I should barge in and disrupt the sex party or just go abode and wait trough she came home tomorrow. I decided, meekly, to go home and wait. It was a prospicient Night for me. I could only imagine what variety of sex acts she was agreeing to at this house.

When she came home the adjacent Night, I calmly asked her how her job trip was. She had various prepared remark about it, and what was accomplished. I just burned inside. She showered and we had conventional sex. My only way to get a severely on was to think back seeing her taking all those hawkshaw in her ass, then sucking them off. I managed to do the husbandly thing and we had vanilla sex as we normally did. I did not confront her about her trip.

She had another of these each week"overnight"stumble for piece of work and I followed her this time. I stood outside that same window and watched her nooky every man who was playing cards. They would sometimes know on the kitchen counter, or the couch or on the floor. But every clock time, all the men would fuck her in the ass and cum in her backtalk, like I witnessed the first night. I did not make love if she was using the poster game to get a gang bash, or if she was gambling at a high-risk level and if she lost, the solution were that she'd have to sleep with everyone. I could not hear the conversations, but regardless, these guys all were fucking my wife, and I was just watching from outside. I felt pathetic and helpless.

I went around to the look room access of this star sign, and it was unlock. I walked right in. I found the men, naked, and surrounding my wife, in a sexual free for all. There was at to the lowest degree two men with their dicks buried in her cakehole when I barged in. I stood there, then asked"What the nooky is going on ? ”.

Ashley recognized my voice and instantly began untangling herself from the au naturel physical structure. She looked at me in a cold stare and said,"what are you doing here ? ”.

I told her I knew of these poker games and was here to bar it."Really ? ”, she said with shameful authority."What gives you the right to push forward in here, uninvited ?"

I just looked at her and said"I am taking you home. Get dressed ”.

The men all looked guilty as sin and instantly got dressed and left. The homeowner got dressed too but hid out in the dorsum of the house. It was just Ashley and me, staring at each other.

acerate leaf to say, it was a strange ride house. I had her leave her car at that house and to taunt with me. I bluntly asked her what she was thinking about by fucking all these men. She could only fight off crying and explained that she could not help oneself herself."The thrill of making a big bet, even if I lost, was more exciting than anything you and I do together ”. She said. And added that she needed to do it, for her own sanity.

My sex liveliness with Ashley nearly stopped at that compass point. She and I were fucking less than one Night a week. She said her work was stressful and she just was not in the mode for sex. This was quite dissimilar than when we first were married and had sex nightly and did all that role playing. All that came to a gradual halt and now I knew why. She was getting gang banged weekly and my pathetic attempts at love qualification could not fulfill her current stratum of sexual satisfaction.

She secretly had other shipway to point wager and fill gambling risks. She would do private betting with a gaming company in town and sometimes lost a noticeable amount of money. I had access code to her bank story and could see some mince measure of cash leaving her bill fairly often, but nothing excessive. I followed her is the same manner as before, tracking her with her electric cell earpiece. She would ride to a seedy part of town and duck into a occupation after workplace one or two days a workweek. I followed her in and talked my way past the woman who was controlling access to the business. I told her I was from out of town and heard they had gaming post set up so a soul could flirt poker or sports bet. The dame let me in.

There was a big room that had hulk TV monitors set up with various sports being played. There were screens that had percentages of bets and data that I did not understand being updated instantly. I did not recognise if this was a legal gambling patronage or something else. All I knew was that Ashley was involved. By this time, weeks after I confronted her poker night sex, I no longer saw any Cash going out of her account, but it was still affecting our marriage. I never saw Ashley that night, but based on her headphone locater, she was in this building. I again went home and did not confront her. I was a weak, misfortunate husband. If I confronted her, she would say it was her money, and she'd spend it however she wanted. What I was more bear on about was her red that did not get paid off in hard currency. What sex acts was she performing in lieu of Johnny Cash, I wondered ?

I went back to that commercial enterprise and talked to the womanhood controlling access to the gaming region. I began asking more motion about what betting was offered, and if there was a more uttermost way to bask gaming than just making bets. She understood and took me to a room where there was a large video reminder."This is where some of our to a greater extent daring guest have to pay their bet off ”. She pulled up a recording and there was a woman ( not my married woman, give thanks goodness ) who had made some kind of bet, and apparently lost. She had a sudden terrible expression on her boldness, and two men rushed into the room with her. They began ripping her clothes off. The madam just stood there, stoically, and allowed them to discase her naked. Then they pushed her to the floor and fucked her in every position imaginable.

"Wow, that adult female must have made a very large bet to take a chance getting fucked by those two men ”. I said. The new woman escorting me looked at me and smiled."You don't understand. The betting sum does not need to be large. There are some people who will risk everything just to stimulate a bet. The money is not big, but the risk is. This ma'am you just saw placed a low bet on something that she had no clue what the risk was. When she lost, she paid up with her organic structure. She bet her own body as payment."

"How often do people make these bets that are shown on this screen ? And is this a recording ? ”, I asked pensively.

"If you are interested in becoming a ratifier, we will discuss pricing. But yes, every bet is recorded. We sell the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ions and there are C of thousands of viewer who pay to see the outcome. That is the other component of the bet. The endangerment is that the person who loses, also has the abasement that thousands of other people will see them lose and get to find the betting person being forced to pay up."The Young lady looked at me and smiled. She knew she had just made another sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion sale. I paid.

I went dwelling and set up a watchword to the betting site. I got into the section where all the bets were made and paid off. There were thumbnail picture of the person making /losing the bet and it was divided up by sex, race, age, etc. so I could isolate my wife from others, if she had been filmed.

It took about a half 60 minutes of screening out others, but I found a thumbnail of a woman who looked like my married woman. Her incision of the videos was just identified with a phone number, like it was her member number, perhaps. It showed a lot of video recording of her in that section.

My warmness was pounding in my chest of drawers as I clicked on to the first thumbnail image. Then, the TV began. There was an explanation of an odd betting circumstance printed on the sieve, and then two objector. Two women betting on different outcomes for the consequence. I think my wife was betting against the other womanhood. I did not interpret what was bet, and maybe that was knowing. They wanted the viewers to be excited and surprised to see what the payoff was. I was on sharpness to cognise the outcome. This was compelling viewing.

There was dramatic music and conversation, but it was not important to me. I skipped ahead to see the outcome. Suddenly, my wife had a dejected look on her facial expression and was dragged off the set by the other woman. Then they cut to a bed, where my married woman was now naked. The early char was naked too and had her cunt straddling my married woman's face. My wife was eating out the other woman and being filmed doing it. And perhaps thousands of subscribers saw her do it. The conniption continued and I watched my married woman select a jumbo dildo up her ass and then suck it scavenge. I saw her drub the ass of the other woman and ready that womanhood small fry on my wife's face. All the typical sapphic acts were done, and my married woman was the one performing them on the winner. The former woman totally controlled my wife. The"show"ended by my wife getting fisted and later pissed on by that other woman.

I had mixed feelings about what I saw. I was depressed that my married woman did this and kept it hidden from me, and I was also very shake. Seeing my wife doing those sex acts was out of character for her, and her debasing herself was a huge turn-on for me to watch.

I clicked on the adjacent thumbnail in my wife's section. She was again standing in a studio, following to another adult female. Both women were having some discussion, and the interviewer was passing the microphone back and Forth as both women made comments. Then the medicine got dramatic, and the diminished screen was brought into view. There were identification number flashing and some variety of termination. Then the computer silver screen showed my wife with a Brobdingnagian grin on her face as she hopped up and down, clapping. The former lady was not happy, and a group of men dragged her off camera. Then, they showed another elbow room where the peeress who lost the bet was taken. She was pushed to the floor and a dozen men gathered around her and forced her to suck their dick. She had them thrust at her constantly and she struggled to suck all of them, at least briefly. Then the men all began shooting their cum in the dame's sassing, face and pilus. In just a few min all the men had deposited a blast of jizz on her. She was then lifted up and whisked away. There was a handheld camera following her. The madam was dripping cum from her mentum, optic and hair, as she was deposited on a busy business district sidewalk. The camera followed her as she tried to find a hack or a ride to get away from the public space.

There was another thumbnail that I was compelled to click on. It showed my married woman's face again, sitting side by side to a large dog."Oh, no, she did not bet something and have to have sex with a dog, did she ? ”, I said to myself. I fast forwarded the picture and there my married woman was, on her articulatio genus with that dog frantically humping away on Ashley's back position. The photographic camera zoomed in and showed the dog's cock buried in my wife's lovely ass. There was about 10 minutes of her being locked together with that animal, then the dog dismounted.

Ashley quickly turned and found the dog's big penis and began to nurse it. She pulled off of the dog's dick and the photographic camera easily captured sperm being sprayed into Ashley's mouth and on her fount. She looked like a amok person as she eagerly sucked that dog's putz. I was totally amaze. But I rewound that television and watched her again and again. I pulled out my throbbing shaft and jacked off, timing my orgasm to when the camera caught her being sprayed with K9 cum.

After I recovered from my orgasm, I continued scrolling thru the other videos to see what else Ashley had done. But then I found a Black person thumbnail that had white varsity letter saying,"Live outcome ”. Then it gave the fourth dimension and escort. It was going to happen late tonight in my time zona. My wife was going to be a protester and broadcast in real sentence ! Holy shit.

I set my phone alarm for the event to start. When the alarm went off, I quickly clicked on the black and white thumbnail to get back to the daub for my wife's programme. I was sweating and my center was pounding in my chest. This was the most involved in a video broadcast I had ever been in my spirit. No wonder the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion was so expensive. This was must-see TV.

I clicked on the thumbnail for the live event. sure enough enough, my wife was on the screen, and with another womanhood. The other woman was interviewing my wife. I studied the other char and realized it was the same lady who showed me around that betting business and sold me the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion for this show. This became more interesting as the minute crept by.

There was a lot of filler yakety-yak, but I didn't care about any of this and wanted them to get to the takings. I wanted to see my wife do worthless things on camera. This was becoming an uncontrollable dependance for me too. The screen showed Sir Thomas More photos and short vids of my married woman. The vids were of her paying off preceding bets. In one video she was pushed out of a van in a John Roy Major city, completely naked. She had to go into an office and retrieve some kind of brochure and come back to that van. She had a unadulterated verbalism of overplus, but when she jumped back into the van she was elated.

Another short vid of her yesteryear was being strapped to a widget, naked and legs spread. There was a cloaked man with a whip, who began beating her bare tits, belly and her bitch. She had red streak on her tit and across the remainder of her body when this was finished. This must have been a time when she would not have sex with me, so I could not see her marks.

So, all these short vids led up to her current bet, happening tonight. It seemed like the picture that I saw of her kept getting more extreme, the more current the picture date was.

If that was the event, that there was a patterned advance to the extremeness of the act on picture, I could not imagine what she'd be willing to do, more than what I had already seen.

cover on the populate consequence, the interviewing cleaning woman asked my married woman a question. My wife answered. The solution did not mean anything to me, so I presume it was some jargon that meant something to the gambling industry.

Then, the camera focused in on my wife's beautiful human face. She looked care and pondering. The interviewer turned to bet at another screen door as did my married woman. The consequence of what my married woman had bet on was to be shown on the new screen, apparently.

There was cliff-hanging medicine acting in the background as both my married woman and the interviewer stared at the lowly sieve. A set of turn flipped onto the screen. I suppose those numbers were what my married woman bet on. Suddenly there were flashing lights on that screen and exclaiming foretoken flooding that modest screen. The photographic camera panned back to the studio and my wife stared at the screen with a shocked facial expression, then collapsed to the flooring."What the Hell ? ”, I wondered."What crazy or dangerous affair did she bet on ? And it looks like whatever it was, she lost her bet. ”. I yelled to the screen.

Then the program panned back to the interviewer, who had an blanched feeling on her look. Then she indicated for the viewers to ascertain the lowly sieve. It showed a suburban neighborhood, and it was a pitch-dark night. Then the screen switched to something portable as if the camera was being handheld. The camera panned to a white van that pulled up into someone's driveway. The sliding door opened, and three men dressed in tactical appurtenance jumped out and ran up to the front door of that house. They had a battering ram that instantly broke open the room access. I stared at the screen, mesmerized.

Just then, I heard a gawd direful sound of Grant Wood shattering against steel. The crashing sounds were echoed by my computer verbalizer. I heard the door breaking from the computer and from my own house ! I was glued to the information processing system as the handheld camera followed the tactical soldiers into that star sign. It was dark and hard to see any top images, as they swarmed into that house. They had Light Within on their helmets which cast a jerky glowing to the interior of the house they just stormed into.

I caught a abbreviated glint of lighter out of the street corner of my eye, then looked down the hall. There were lights and commotion, and voices yelling in my house."What the underworld ? ”. But I could not stop watching the screen.

The effigy on the information processing system screen were of the cameraman following those SWAT guys who had weapons drawn, headed down a hall. I saw lights in my hall. I turned back to the information processing system screen. I saw the cameraman filming the SWAT guy cable as they aimed their weapons at someone sitting in front end of a information processing system CRT screen with his back to them. I slowly turned to look at them. The man on the computer blind also slowly turned to look at them. This was VERY COMPELLING TV. There was a clutter of noises and trice of light as the beams of light source produced by the helmet torch were jumping around the room in a crazy way.

I looked back at the computer filmdom, and my mental capacity tried to sort out why I was hearing the same sounds in my own house as was on the screen. The beams of light and yelling suddenly filled my optic and ears. I could not break in away from the computer screen. I had to look out. Suddenly, I realized that the English profile of the person on the figurer CRT screen looked very familiar spirit. I turned to face the lights and randomness and realized that it was me that was being filmed. Those tie weapon system were aimed at me.

I turned one finale clock time to look at the estimator sieve, just before shots rang out. My chest exploded and I flew against my computer desk. I looked at the screen and the picture showed the back of a man, with dour red blotches that were rapidly expanding in the cloth of his white dress shirt. Then, the scene shifted back to my wife and the interviewer. My wife had a stunned tone on her face and all the people of color had drained from her. She was crying.

The screenland then cut back to that nursing home invasion. There was a man, laying against the computer monitor on his desk, in a consortium of his own blood, as he leaned on his desk. He had just enough forcefulness left before dying to look back up at the figurer screen and see his own bedevil, lineage splashed facial expression. Then, in his final moments, that man on the screen realized that his wife had just lost a bet that cost him his life. The poor bastard on the TV screen that thou had just witnessed being executed was me.

The computer screen switched back to the interviewer, who calmly looked at her clipboard and read out the details for the next case, with date and times. I was bleeding out and would soon be stagnant, but it looked as though my wife was planning to make another bet on adjacent week's nearly compel TV display .