Ashley 's addiction

This is fiction. No fictional characters were harming in the writing of this story.

Ashley and I are practically honeymooner. We have been married just over one year and still getting to know each other. We met in college, as many Edward Young married coupled have done, and it was a whirlwind love affair. We were both seniors and met in a statistic and probability course for our Business school day level. She was a Finance Major, and I was a selling John R. Major. Math is not my strong suite, so I asked Ashley to tutor me. That was the beginning of our romance, and I was instantly in love with her. She was a rarefied combo of beauty and brains that I fell in love with. She helped me pop off that stratum. She was a whiz at calculating probabilities and doing Risk Analysis. We both graduated that Spring, and I asked her to marry me.

We both got career problem associated with our different stage. I went into Corporate Sales with my selling Degree, and she went into the Insurance industry and got a risk of exposure Analysis position. For our wedding she invited a cadre of guy rope whom I had never met. They were all piece of work spouse, and she seemed very close to them. Two of the cat happened to have gone to our same university and knew her there. In fact, one of them was responsible for her being hired for the job she got.

mortal at her company started a football pot and even though she knew zero about football, she began betting on the outcome of college and pro football game game. She quickly became fanatical about watching all the game and had spreadsheets in front end of her about role player and statistics. She was very enthusiastic about the resultant of these biz, and I could not understand until one day she let it splay that she was betting on the outcomes.

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

When football season was over, her grouping would go on to early soma of gambling. They had poker nighttime at several guy's house one day a hebdomad and she'd be gone for hours on those Nox. I was not a bill instrumentalist and had no interest in just sitting there watching a poker game, so I never went. She'd come household after a long night of salamander playing and be exhausted. She'd contain a shower and go directly to bed. We had sex, like most young married duet every nighttime, except her poker nights.

Having sex with Ashley was always the highlight of my day. She has large sensitive nipples and full breast, and she is an adventuresome sex partner. When she and I would office recreate she was always the person taking endangerment and pushing the boundary of our sex life story, which I loved. Ashley would pretend to be a high finance person, betting on the final result of a business organisation deal, and we would often act that she lost on her bet. She'd have to do some limited sex act for me if she lost. I loved playing that plot.

I learned, quite by fortuity, that she would progress to bets with her poker performing buddies the like way. If she lost a big hand, she might make to train 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 sneaker into the sign of the zodiac, and I noticed her titmouse were let loose under her sweater and saw her large mammilla 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 home. I did not think much about it until it happened more than a few times.

When she began playing on Saturday nights, without me, of course of study, it began eating into our clock time together. I decided I needed to be intimate more about the game that she was playing and her chemical group of men that she played with. I asked her if I could join her one of those nights. She was not felicitous with that but did it anyway to placate me, I suppose.

I went with her to her stove poker night. They had a visiting card table set up and there were four men and her playing. I was watching TV in another room and not paying much attention to their plot when I heard voices of the men, cheering on some termination. I peeked into the biz area and saw her on her knees, giving one of the guys a blowjob. She had her mouth locked around this guy's prick 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 mouth and jacked off all over her face. I was dumb struck. I ran in and demanded to jazz what was going on. She just looked at me and explained that she lost a high-risk 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 get grammatical construction on her human face, as she wiped his cum off that was dripping down her chin. She said,"What is your problem ? It is only a blowjob !"

I asked her as we drove household how often she had to do a sex act as component of the poker night. She confessed it happened quite often. It was a way for her to bet on a high-risk 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 guest room that night. We did not have sex again for a week.

Ashley began traveling for her work on all-night assignments. I did not sympathise why a risk of exposure assessment person would need to go out of Ithiel Town for a confluence, but kept my mouth shut. Supposedly the ship's company paid for her hotel and travel price, so I never saw any spending for her travel. I watched her deportment and could see that every travelling day of the month was on the Lapplander day of the workweek, each week. I paid attention to her clothing she packed, and it was criterion stuff. But one time, in the wintertime, she was supposedly going to Chicago for a confluence, and she did not pack a sonorous coat. The aerodrome in Chicago was closed due to a winter tempest, but she claimed to have stayed there anyway. She came home the next nighttime, like normal and did not mention the frigid conditions in Chicago.

She began making serious 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 do by it. On her next week's overnight stumble, I took a day off from my job and followed her to work. I had put a tracking twist on her phone, to see if she was still in her home bureau. She was, all day, but had told me she was going to an out-of-town customer meeting. Then the tracking device showed me that she drove to a individual home in our area. I drove to her location and saw several railway car parked in the same driveway that she was also parked in. This was a distinctive suburban house with a fenced back yard. I saw one of the hombre whom I recognized from her home office arrive late to that same house. I did not bonk what to do. I sped off and went to a local pub to classify out in my caput what she might be up to.

About two 60 minutes later I drove back to that house, not knowing how to face her. I slipped into the house's back M and made my way around to one of the windows so I could see in. There was a table of men, and Ashley, playing cards. I spied on them for at least a half hr and was ready to depart. Then suddenly the room erupted, and all the men were rhapsodic about some final result. Ashley threw her cards on the table, apparently losing that hand. Then she began taking off her clothes. And all the men in the room began doing the same think. She quickly stripped naked and climbed on top of one of the nude men who was now seated on the couch. She climbed on his lap, and I could see her guide his prick into her puss. 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 early guy cable surrounded them on the couch, and she was jacking off someone while some other guy stood behind the lounge. Ashley began sucking that guy's prick. The totally radical of men apparently knew they were going to fuck her. I watched in amazement. I could not conceive my wife was fucking all those hombre during a tease game. What really amazed me was that I got an erecting 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 spot and was hanging off the couch with her question and shoulders on the floor. Her ass was still on the couch, and I could clearly see that every man took a turning fucking her ass, then moved down and presented their stopcock for her to suck. She was doing an Ass to Mouth train with every guy there. Every man would deplumate out of her ass and cum in her mouth or on her brass. And she always sucked them off when they were done shooting their cum. During all this, I had pulled out my own cock and was stroking it as I watched her fuck all those hombre. I climaxed and shoot my shipment on the brick wall of the house, just underneath the window I was spying on her from.

Then mortal decided that the political party needed to move to another part of the house and all of them went upstairs, probably to a bedroom, to continue fucking. I felt sick to my tum. I did not have intercourse if I should barge in and interrupt the sex party or just go home base and wait till she came rest home tomorrow. I decided, meekly, to go home and wait. It was a long night for me. I could only imagine what kind of sex acts she was agreeing to at this house.

When she came home the succeeding night, I calmly asked her how her business trip was. She had several fain comments about it, and what was accomplished. I just burned inside. She showered and we had conventional sex. My sole way to get a strong on was to remember seeing her taking all those pecker in her ass, then sucking them off. I managed to do the husbandly affair and we had vanilla extract sex as we normally did. I did not confront her about her trip.

She had another of these weekly"overnight"trip for work and I followed her this clock time. I stood outside that same window and watched her nookie every man who was playing lineup. They would sometimes eff on the kitchen counter, or the couch or on the flooring. But every meter, all the men would eff her in the ass and cum in her rima oris, like I witnessed the first dark. I did not know if she was using the add-in game to get a gang smash, or if she was gambling at a high-risk layer and if she lost, the result were that she'd have to fuck 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 misfortunate and helpless.

I went around to the front door of this house, and it was unlocked. I walked right in. I found the men, naked, and surrounding my wife, in a intimate free people for all. There was at least two men with their putz buried in her holes when I barged in. I stood there, then asked"What the fuck is going on ? ”.

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

I told her I knew of these poker plot and was here to stop it."Really ? ”, she said with lurid sanction."What gives you the right hand to barge in here, uninvited ?"

I just looked at her and said"I am taking you house. Get dress up ”.

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

phonograph needle to say, it was a strange ride house. I had her leave her car at that house and to ride with me. I bluntly asked her what she was thinking about by fucking all these men. She could only fight down off tears and explained that she could not help herself."The boot 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 life-time with Ashley nearly stopped at that distributor 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 climate for sex. This was quite different 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 pitiful try at love making could not conform to her flow point of sexual satisfaction.

She secretly had early ways to range bets and contain gaming risks. She would do private betting with a gaming company in township and sometimes lost a noticeable amount of money. I had access to her banking concern account and could see some tame amounts of John Cash leaving her account fairly often, but nothing excessive. I followed her is the same fashion as before, tracking her with her cell phone. She would repulse to a unwell part of townsfolk and duck's egg into a business after work one or two days a calendar week. I followed her in and talked my way past the woman who was controlling access to the occupation. I told her I was from out of Ithiel Town and heard they had gaming stations set up so a person could wreak poker or sports bet. The noblewoman let me in.

There was a bombastic room that had giant TV monitors set up with various sports being played. There were silver screen that had pct of bet and data that I did not understand being updated instantly. I did not know if this was a legal gambling business 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 chronicle, but it was still affecting our spousal relationship. I never saw Ashley that Night, but based on her phone locator, she was in this building. I again went dwelling house and did not confront her. I was a weak, miserable husband. If I confronted her, she would say it was her money, and she'd spend it however she wanted. What I was more concerned about was her release that did not get paid off in cash. What sex turn was she performing in place of cash, I wondered ?

I went back to that business and talked to the char controlling memory access to the gaming expanse. I began asking more doubtfulness about what betting was offered, and if there was a more extreme way to savor gaming than just making bets. She understood and took me to a room where there was a vauntingly video monitor."This is where some of our more daring client have to pay their bets off ”. She pulled up a recording and there was a cleaning lady ( not my married woman, thank good ) who had made some form of bet, and apparently lost. She had a sudden awful expression on her aspect, and two men rushed into the way with her. They began ripping her clothes off. The gentlewoman just stood there, stoically, and allowed them to strip her au naturel. Then they pushed her to the flooring and fucked her in every position imaginable.

"Wow, that woman must have made a very gravid bet to risk getting fucked by those two men ”. I said. The untested womanhood escorting me looked at me and smiled."You don't understand. The betting amount does not involve to be declamatory. There are some people who will lay on the line everything just to make up a bet. The money is not big, but the risk is. This lady you just saw placed a meek bet on something that she had no clue what the danger was. When she lost, she paid up with her body. She bet her own trunk as payment."

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

"If you are concern in becoming a subscriber, we will discuss pricing. But yes, every bet is recorded. We sell the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ions and there are hundreds of thousands of witness who pay to see the outcome. That is the early part of the bet. The risk of exposure is that the somebody who loses, also has the chagrin that thousands of other people will see them lose and get to see 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 nursing home and set up a password to the betting land site. I got into the division where all the bets were made and paid off. There were thumbnail photos of the soul making /losing the bet and it was divided up by sex, race, age, etc. so I could sequestrate my wife from others, if she had been filmed.

It took about a half hour of screening out others, but I found a thumbnail of a woman who looked like my wife. Her division of the video was just identified with a act, like it was her member number, perhaps. It showed a lot of videos of her in that section.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I clicked on to the get-go thumbnail image. Then, the video recording began. There was an explanation of an odd betting setting printed on the filmdom, and then two protester. Two women betting on different termination for the outcome. I think my wife was betting against the other woman. I did not understand what was bet, and maybe that was intentional. They wanted the viewers to be excited and surprised to see what the reward was. I was on edge to know the outcome. This was compelling viewing.

There was spectacular music and conversation, but it was not significant to me. I skipped ahead to see the effect. Suddenly, my wife had a dejected tone on her brass and was dragged off the set by the other fair sex. Then they cut to a bed, where my wife was now raw. The other woman was naked too and had her cunt straddling my wife's facial expression. My wife was eating out the other adult female and being filmed doing it. And perhaps thousands of subscribers saw her do it. The scene continued and I watched my wife take a jumbo dildo up her ass and then suck it clean. I saw her work the ass of the other woman and make that woman spurt on my wife's side. All the distinctive gay woman number were done, and my wife was the one performing them on the winner. The early woman totally controlled my wife. The"appearance"ended by my wife getting fisted and later pissed on by that other woman.

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

I clicked on the next thumbnail in my wife's segment. She was again standing in a studio, future to another woman. Both women were having some treatment, and the interviewer was passing the mike back and forth as both women made comments. Then the music got spectacular, and the small screen was brought into view. There were numbers flashing and some kind of result. Then the computing device screen showed my wife with a Brobdingnagian grinning on her font as she hopped up and down, clapping. The other peeress was not happy, and a group of men dragged her off camera. Then, they showed another room where the lady who lost the bet was taken. She was pushed to the storey and a 12 men gathered around her and forced her to soak up their pecker. She had them poking at her constantly and she struggled to suck all of them, at least briefly. Then the men all began shooting their cum in the lady's lip, human face and fuzz. In just a few arcminute all the men had deposited a bang of jizz on her. She was then lifted up and whisked away. There was a handheld camera following her. The lady was dripping cum from her chin, eyes and hair, as she was deposited on a busy downtown sidewalk. The camera followed her as she tried to find a taxi or a ride to get away from the public space.

There was another thumbnail that I was compelled to get through on. It showed my wife's grimace again, sitting succeeding to a vauntingly 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 show and there my wife was, on her articulatio genus with that dog frantically humping away on Ashley's back incline. The camera zoomed in and showed the dog's dick buried in my wife's lovely ass. There was about 10 transactions of her being locked together with that fauna, then the dog dismounted.

Ashley quickly turned and found the dog's vauntingly penis and began to wet-nurse it. She pulled off of the dog's shaft and the camera easily captured sperm being sprayed into Ashley's mouthpiece and on her case. She looked like a possessed person as she eagerly sucked that dog's dick. I was totally dumbfounded. But I rewound that video and watched her again and again. I pulled out my throbbing dick and jacked off, timing my orgasm to when the photographic camera caught her being sprayed with K9 cum.

After I recovered from my climax, I continued scrolling thru the former videos to see what else Ashley had done. But then I found a black thumbnail that had white letter saying,"Live case ”. Then it gave the time and engagement. It was going to happen late tonight in my clock time zone. My wife was going to be a contestant and programme in real time ! holy shit.

I set my phone alarm for the event to begin. When the alarm went off, I quickly clicked on the nigrify and Patrick White thumbnail to get back to the situation for my wife's broadcast. I was sweating and my eye was pounding in my chest. This was the most involved in a video broadcast I had ever been in my liveliness. No wonderment the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion was so expensive. This was must-see TV.

I clicked on the thumbnail for the live effect. Sure enough, my wife was on the screen, and with another woman. The other woman was interviewing my wife. I studied the other woman and realized it was the Lapplander lady who showed me around that betting line of work and sold me the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion for this show. This became more interesting as the moments crept by.

There was a lot of filler chatter, but I didn't tending about any of this and wanted them to get to the take. I wanted to see my wife do slimy things on camera. This was becoming an unruly addiction for me too. The projection screen showed more photos and curtly vids of my wife. The vids were of her paying off by bets. In one video she was pushed out of a van in a John R. Major city, completely defenseless. She had to go into an office and call back some form of folder and number back to that van. She had a over expression of embarrassment, but when she jumped back into the van she was elated.

Another unretentive vid of her past was being strapped to a contraption, naked and pegleg paste. There was a masked man with a whip, who began beating her bare mamilla, belly and her pussy. She had red run on her titty and across the rest of her body when this was finished. This must birth 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 videos that I saw of her kept getting more uttermost, the more current the video date was.

If that was the case, that there was a progression to the extremeness of the act on video, I could not imagine what she'd be uncoerced to do, to a greater extent than what I had already seen.

binding on the resilient effect, the interviewing char asked my wife a doubt. My wife answered. The answer did not intend anything to me, so I presume it was some jargon that meant something to the gambling industriousness.

Then, the television camera focused in on my wife's beautiful face. She looked worried and pensive. The interviewer turned to look at another screen as did my wife. The result of what my married woman had bet on was to be shown on the new screen, apparently.

There was suspenseful medicine playing in the desktop as both my married woman and the interviewer stared at the smaller screen. A set of numeral flipped onto the screen. I suppose those numbers were what my wife bet on. Suddenly there were flashing lights on that screen door and exclamation signs flooding that small filmdom. The camera panned back to the studio and my wife stared at the screen with a shock expression, then collapsed to the story."What the sin ? ”, I wondered."What looney or dangerous thing 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 livid feeling on her fount. Then she indicated for the viewers to watch the little screen. It showed a suburban neighborhood, and it was a pitch-black dark. Then the screen switched to something portable as if the camera was being handheld. The tv camera panned to a white van that pulled up into person's driveway. The sliding door opened, and three men dressed in tactical gear jumped out and ran up to the front door of that star sign. They had a banging ram that instantly broke open the door. I stared at the concealment, mesmerized.

Just then, I heard a gawd dreadful speech sound of wood shattering against brand. The crashing sounds were echoed by my computer speakers. I heard the door breaking from the reckoner and from my own house ! I was glued to the electronic computer as the handheld television camera followed the tactical soldiers into that business firm. It was nighttime and difficult to see any clear images, as they swarmed into that theatre. They had luminance on their helmets which cast a jerky glow to the DoI of the house they just stormed into.

I caught a abbreviated glint of get down out of the quoin of my eye, then looked down the hall. There were lightness and din, and representative yelling in my menage."What the perdition ? ”. But I could not stop watching the screen.

The images on the computer covert were of the cameraman following those SWAT guy cable who had weapons drawn, headed down a hallway. I saw light in my hallway. I turned back to the information processing system screen. I saw the camera operator filming the SWAT guys as they aimed their weapons at person sitting in social movement of a computer cover with his spinal column to them. I slowly turned to look at them. The man on the estimator covert also slowly turned to seem at them. This was VERY COMPELLING TV. There was a patchwork of noise and instant of light as the beams of Light produced by the helmet torch were jumping around the elbow room in a unbalanced way.

I looked back at the data processor concealment, and my brain tried to separate out why I was hearing the same sounds in my own family as was on the blind. The ray of Light and yelling suddenly filled my eyes and auricle. I could not violate away from the data processor screen. I had to watch out. Suddenly, I realized that the side profile of the someone on the estimator screen looked very familiar. I turned to face up the lights and noise and realized that it was me that was being filmed. Those take in weapons were aimed at me.

I turned one live on time to look at the computer screen, just before slam rang out. My thorax exploded and I flew against my computer desk. I looked at the screen and the scene showed the rachis of a man, with sinister red splotch that were rapidly expanding in the cloth of his white dress shirt. Then, the scene shifted back to my married woman and the interviewer. My married woman had a stunned look on her face and all the color had drained from her. She was crying.

The filmdom then cut back to that abode invasion. There was a man, laying against the computer monitor on his desk, in a pool of his own blood, as he leaned on his desk. He had just enough military posture left before dying to look back up at the computer silver screen and see his own confused, blood splashed face. Then, in his final moments, that man on the screen realized that his wife had just lost a bet that cost him his spirit. The pitiable bastard on the TV concealment that thousands had just witnessed being executed was me.

The computer silver screen switched back to the interviewer, who calmly looked at her clipboard and read out the details for the side by side outcome, with dates and multiplication. I was bleeding out and would soon be dead, but it looked as though my wife was planning to cause another bet on next week's nigh compelling TV appearance .