Ashley 's Addiction

This is fable. No fabricated characters were harming in the writing of this story.

Ashley and I are practically honeymooner. We have been married just over one twelvemonth and still getting to know each early. We met in college, as many vernal married coupled have done, and it was a whirlwind romanticism. We were both elder and met in a statistics and Probability course for our Business schooling degrees. She was a Finance major, and I was a selling Major. Math is not my strong cortege, so I asked Ashley to tutor me. That was the beginning of our romance, and I was instantly smitten with her. She was a rare combo of stunner and brains that I fell in love with. She helped me pass that class. She was a virtuoso at calculating probability and doing Risk analytic thinking. 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 Sales with my selling stage, and she went into the Insurance Industry and got a Risk analytic thinking spot. For our marriage she invited a cadre of guys whom I had never met. They were all work mates, and she seemed very close to them. Two of the guy happened to have gone to our Saami university and knew her there. In fact, one of them was responsible for her being hired for the job she got.

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

Ashley had a secure income, and I did not care that she was betting money on these games, as long as it remained a friendly and manageable measure of money each week. She'd be happy when one game ended if she had bet the right way, but when the very adjacent plot started, she'd be all wound up about that game's result. Betting on these game 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 class of gambling. They had poker nights at various guy's home plate one day a workweek and she'd be gone for hours on those nights. I was not a placard player and had no interest in just sitting there watching a salamander secret plan, so I never went. She'd come home after a long night of poker playing and be exhausted. She'd take a shower and go directly to bed. We had sex, like most Brigham Young married span every night, except her poker game nights.

Having sex with Ashley was always the highlighting of my day. She has bombastic tender nipples and full breast, and she is an adventurous sex partner. When she and I would function play she was always the someone taking risks and pushing the bound of our sex life, which I loved. Ashley would pretend to be a high finance someone, betting on the upshot of a commercial enterprise hatful, 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 game.

I learned, quite by accident, that she would make bets with her poker playacting buddies the Lapplander way. If she lost a big hand, she might bear to claim off her top. I found out when she came home one Nox and had forgotten to put her bra back on. I saw her sort of sneak into the home, and I noticed her tits were open under her sweater and saw her outstanding 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 opine much about it until it happened more than a few times.

When she began playing on Saturday dark, without me, of track, it began eating into our time together. I decided I needed to know more about the secret plan that she was playing and her group 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 appease 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 performing. I was watching TV in another room and not paying much attention to their biz when I heard voices of the men, cheering on some outcome. I peeked into the plot area and saw her on her genu, giving one of the guy wire a cock sucking. She had her mouth locked around this guy's shit and was feverishly sucking him.

I walked into the way just as he climaxed. I watched as he pulled his cock from Ashley's sassing and jacked off all over her brass. I was mute struck. I ran in and demanded to recognise what was going on. She just looked at me and explained that she lost a high-risk hand and owed the achiever the BJ. I began yelling, and told her to get cleaned up, that we were leaving. She just looked at me with a puzzled expression 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 blowjob !"

I asked her as we drove base how often she had to perform a sex act as share of the poker dark. She confessed it happened quite often. It was a way for her to bet on a high-risk paw without having to pay any money. I was astonished. I told her no more stove poker night. She was pissed off and went to bed in our invitee room that night. We did not ingest sex again for a week.

Ashley began traveling for her work on overnight assignments. I did not understand why a Risk Assessment soul would need to go out of town for a meeting, but kept my sass shut. Supposedly the ship's company paid for her hotel and travelling costs, so I never saw any expenditure for her travel. I watched her conduct and could see that every travel day of the month was on the Lapp day of the week, each week. I paid attention to her article of clothing she packed, and it was standard poppycock. But one time, in the wintertime, she was supposedly going to Michigan for a meeting, and she did not pack a heavy coating. The drome in Chicago was closed due to a winter violent storm, but she claimed to have stayed there anyway. She came home the following night, like rule and did not mention the frigid conditions in Chicago.

She began making serious income from her job, and we depended on it for our modus vivendi. I knew something was going on, but I did not jazz how to handle it. On her next week's overnight trip, I took a day off from my job and followed her to work. I had put a tracking device on her phone, to see if she was still in her home authority. She was, all day, but had told me she was going to an out-of-town client merging. Then the tracking gimmick showed me that she drove to a buck private rest home in our area. I drove to her locating and saw respective cars parked in the like driveway that she was also parked in. This was a typical suburban planetary house with a fenced back yard. I saw one of the guys whom I recognized from her dwelling bureau arrive late to that Sami house. I did not know what to do. I sped off and went to a local pub to sort out in my read/write head what she might be up to.

About two minute later I drove back to that house, not knowing how to confront her. I slipped into the firm's back yard 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 60 minutes and was ready to leave. Then suddenly the room erupted, and all the men were enraptured about some upshot. Ashley threw her cards on the table, apparently losing that script. Then she began taking off her wearing apparel. And all the men in the room began doing the same think. She quickly stripped nude and climbed on top of one of the naked men who was now seated on the sofa. She climbed on his lap, and I could see her guide his dick into her cunt. There was another man who stood behind her and then shoved his dick in her too. I could not assure if he was in her ass, but that is what it looked like from where I stood.

The other guys surrounded them on the couch, and she was jacking off someone while some other guy stood behind the sofa. Ashley began sucking that guy's pricking. The whole group of men apparently knew they were going to fuck her. I watched in amazement. I could not think my wife was fucking all those guy during a board 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 positions and was hanging off the couch with her head and shoulder joint on the floor. Her ass was still on the couch, and I could clearly see that every man took a good turn fucking her ass, then moved down and presented their cock for her to suck. She was doing an Ass to Mouth railroad train with every guy there. Every man would pull out of her ass and cum in her mouth or on her grimace. And she always sucked them off when they were done shooting their cum. During all this, I had pulled out my own stopcock and was stroking it as I watched her fuck all those guys. I climaxed and gibe my encumbrance on the brick bulwark of the house, just underneath the window I was spying on her from.

Then mortal decided that the company needed to make a motion to another part of the planetary house and all of them went upstairs, probably to a sleeping room, to continue fucking. I felt regurgitate to my venter. I did not know if I should barge in and cut off the sex company or just go home and wait till she came home base tomorrow. I decided, meekly, to go home and wait. It was a long dark for me. I could only imagine what sort of sex acts she was agreeing to at this house.

When she came home the next Night, I calmly asked her how her business trip was. She had several prepared gossip about it, and what was accomplished. I just burned inside. She showered and we had conventional sex. My alone way to get a laborious on was to think of seeing her taking all those dicks 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"trips for work and I followed her this time. I stood outside that like window and watched her know every man who was playing lineup. They would sometimes jazz on the kitchen comeback, or the couch or on the floor. But every meter, all the men would bonk her in the ass and cum in her mouth, like I witnessed the first dark. I did not know if she was using the notice plot to get a gang boot, or if she was gambling at a high-risk spirit level and if she lost, the effect were that she'd have to eff everyone. I could not hear the conversations, but regardless, these guys all were fucking my married woman, and I was just watching from exterior. I felt pathetic and helpless.

I went around to the front doorway of this house, and it was unlocked. I walked right in. I found the men, naked, and surrounding my wife, in a intimate justify for all. There was at to the lowest degree two men with their gumshoe buried in her muddle 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 naked consistency. She looked at me in a common cold stare and said,"what are you doing here ? ”.

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

I just looked at her and said"I am taking you abode. Get prune ”.

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

acerate leaf to say, it was a strange drive domicile. I had her entrust 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 off tears and explained that she could not help herself."The thrill of making a big bet, even if I lost, was more shake up than anything you and I do together ”. She said. And added that she needed to do it, for her own sanity.

My sex life with Ashley nearly stopped at that full point. She and I were fucking less than one night a week. She said her work was trying and she just was not in the mood 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 pitiable attempts at dear devising could not meet her current level of sexual gratification.

She secretly had early way to localise wager and make gambling risks. She would do private betting with a gaming company in townsfolk and sometimes lost a noticeable amount of money. I had entree to her bank account and could see some tone down amounts of cash leaving her business relationship fairly often, but nothing unreasonable. I followed her is the Lapplander manner as before, tracking her with her mobile phone telephone set. She would drive to a seedy part of Ithiel Town and duck into a business organisation after work 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 stations set up so a someone could flirt poker or sports bet. The ma'am let me in.

There was a large room that had giant TV monitors set up with various summercater being played. There were silver screen that had share of bets and data that I did not infer being updated instantly. I did not know if this was a legal gambling stage business or something else. All I knew was that Ashley was involved. By this prison term, calendar week after I confronted her stove poker night sex, I no longer saw any cash going out of her report, but it was still affecting our man and wife. I never saw Ashley that night, but based on her telephone set locator, she was in this building. I again went dwelling house and did not confront her. I was a infirm, low married man. 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 losses that did not get paid off in cash. What sex human action was she performing in stead of hard cash, I wondered ?

I went back to that business and talked to the woman controlling approach to the gaming area. I began asking more question about what betting was offered, and if there was a more extreme way to enjoy gaming than just making bets. She understood and took me to a room where there was a tumid TV proctor."This is where some of our more than daring clients have to pay their bet off ”. She pulled up a recording and there was a char ( not my wife, thank goodness ) who had made some kind of bet, and apparently lost. She had a sudden direful facial expression on her boldness, and two men rushed into the way with her. They began ripping her clothes off. The noblewoman just stood there, stoically, and allowed them to pillage her bare. Then they pushed her to the floor and fucked her in every position imaginable.

"Wow, that woman must experience made a very large bet to hazard getting fucked by those two men ”. I said. The Edward Young woman escorting me looked at me and smiled."You don't understand. The betting amount of money does not call for to be declamatory. There are some mass who will take a chance everything just to make a bet. The money is not big, but the risk is. This dame you just saw placed a small-scale bet on something that she had no clue what the risk was. When she lost, she paid up with her body. She bet her own body as payment."

"How often do multitude prepare these stakes that are shown on this sieve ? And is this a recording ? ”, I asked pensively.

"If you are interest 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 viewers who pay to see the outcome. That is the early part of the bet. The hazard is that the soul who loses, also has the chagrin that thousands of other people will see them miss and get to see the betting somebody being forced to pay up."The young lady looked at me and smiled. She knew she had just made another sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion sales event. I paid.

I went home and set up a password to the betting web site. I got into the section where all the bets were made and paid off. There were thumbnail exposure 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 one-half hour of screening out others, but I found a thumbnail of a woman who looked like my married woman. Her division of the videos was just identified with a number, like it was her member number, perhaps. It showed a lot of telecasting of her in that section.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I clicked on to the first thumbnail persona. Then, the video began. There was an explanation of an odd betting condition printed on the screen, and then two dissident. Two cleaning woman betting on different outcome for the event. I think my wife was betting against the other woman. I did not see 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 boundary to eff 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 face and was dragged off the set by the other char. Then they cut to a bed, where my wife was now defenseless. The other woman was naked too and had her cunt straddling my wife's grimace. My wife was eating out the former womanhood and being filmed doing it. And perhaps one thousand of reader saw her do it. The scene continued and I watched my married woman take a heavyweight dildo up her ass and then suck it clean. I saw her lick the ass of the other woman and puddle that charwoman spurt on my married woman's face. All the typical lesbian acts were done, and my married woman was the one performing them on the success. The other woman totally controlled my wife. The"appearance"ended by my wife getting fisted and later pissed on by that early woman.

I had mixed smell 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 huge turn-on for me to watch.

I clicked on the next thumbnail in my wife's section. She was again standing in a studio, future to another cleaning woman. Both woman were having some word, and the interviewer was passing the mike back and Forth River as both adult female made comments. Then the music got striking, and the small screen was brought into view. There were numbers flashing and some kind of outcome. Then the data processor screen showed my wife with a vast grinning on her face as she hopped up and down, clapping. The other lady 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 level and a 12 men gathered around her and forced her to give suck their tool. 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 lady's mouth, fount and pilus. In just a few minutes all the men had deposited a blast of jizz on her. She was then lifted up and whisk away. There was a handheld camera following her. The peeress was dripping cum from her Chin, eye and hair, as she was deposited on a busy downtown sidewalk. The camera followed her as she tried to notice a taxi or a ride to get away from the world space.

There was another thumbnail that I was compelled to click on. It showed my married woman's face again, sitting adjacent to a turgid dog."Oh, no, she did not bet something and have to give sex with a dog, did she ? ”, I said to myself. I fast forwarded the film and there my wife was, on her knees with that dog frantically humping away on Ashley's back slope. The camera zoomed in and showed the dog's hawkshaw buried in my wife's lovely ass. There was about 10 moment of her being locked together with that animal, then the dog dismounted.

Ashley quickly turned and found the dog's bombastic member and began to lactate it. She pulled off of the dog's prick and the camera easily captured sperm being sprayed into Ashley's mouth and on her face. She looked like a berserk person as she eagerly sucked that dog's putz. I was totally dumbfounded. But I rewound that picture and watched her again and again. I pulled out my throbbing gumshoe and jacked off, timing my sexual climax to when the photographic camera caught her being sprayed with K9 cum.

After I recovered from my orgasm, I continued scrolling thru the other television to see what else Ashley had done. But then I found a black thumbnail that had white letter of the alphabet saying,"Live Event ”. Then it gave the time and particular date. It was going to take place late tonight in my time zone. My wife was going to be a protester and broadcast in real time ! holy place shit.

I set my telephone set warning signal for the upshot to begin. When the alarm went off, I quickly clicked on the melanise and white thumbnail to get back to the spot for my wife's broadcast. I was sweating and my heart was pounding in my pectus. This was the most involved in a picture broadcast I had ever been in my liveliness. No marvel the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion was so expensive. This was must-see TV.

I clicked on the thumbnail for the live event. Sure enough, my married woman was on the concealment, and with another woman. The other woman was interviewing my wife. I studied the other cleaning woman and realized it was the same madam who showed me around that betting clientele and sold me the sub * * * * * * * * * * * ion for this show. This became more interesting as the moments crept by.

There was a lot of filler yack, but I didn't care about any of this and wanted them to get to the payoff. I wanted to see my wife do despicable thing on camera. This was becoming an irrepressible addiction for me too. The screen showed More photos and unawares vids of my wife. The vids were of her paying off past bets. In one video she was pushed out of a van in a John R. Major city, completely naked. She had to go into an office and retrieve some kind of folder and come back to that van. She had a consummate facial expression of overplus, but when she jumped back into the van she was elated.

Another curt vid of her past was being strapped to a contraption, naked and pegleg bedspread. There was a masked man with a whiplash, who began beating her bare tits, belly and her cunt. She had red run on her breasts and across the quietus of her organic structure when this was finished. This must get been a time when she would not get sex with me, so I could not see her marks.

So, all these scant vids led up to her stream bet, happening tonight. It seemed like the videos that I saw of her kept getting more extreme point, the more flow the picture day of the month was.

If that was the eccentric, that there was a advancement to the extremeness of the act on TV, I could not imagine what she'd be unforced to do, more than what I had already seen.

Back on the last consequence, the interviewing woman asked my wife a question. My married woman answered. The answer did not mean anything to me, so I presume it was some slang that meant something to the gambling industry.

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

There was suspensive music playing in the backdrop as both my married woman and the interviewer stared at the humble screen. A set of numbers flipped onto the projection screen. I suppose those numbers were what my wife bet on. Suddenly there were flashing sparkle on that projection screen and exclamation signal flooding that low CRT screen. The camera panned back to the studio apartment and my wife stared at the CRT screen with a shocked expression, then collapsed to the floor."What the hell on earth ? ”, I wondered."What crazy or unsafe 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 ashen aspect on her face. Then she indicated for the viewers to catch the smaller screen. It showed a suburban region, and it was a pitch-dark dark. Then the cover switched to something portable as if the tv camera was being handheld. The photographic camera panned to a T. H. White van that pulled up into individual's driveway. The sliding door opened, and three men dressed in tactical cogwheel jumped out and ran up to the front room access of that theatre. They had a battering ram that instantly broke open the room access. I stared at the filmdom, mesmerized.

Just then, I heard a gawd abominable audio of Ellen Price Wood shattering against steel. The crashing sounds were echoed by my computer Speaker. I heard the doorway breaking from the data processor and from my own theatre ! I was glued to the computer as the handheld camera followed the tactical soldiers into that house. It was shadow and hard to see any clear double, as they swarmed into that house. They had lights on their helmets which cast a jerky radiance to the interior of the house they just stormed into.

I caught a brief glint of light out of the corner of my eye, then looked down the hallway. There were luminosity and commotion, and articulation yelling in my theatre."What the hell ? ”. But I could not stop watching the screen.

The images on the computer covert were of the cameraman following those SWAT guy rope who had artillery drawn, headed down a hallway. I saw Light in my hallway. I turned back to the computing machine silver screen. I saw the cameraman filming the SWAT guys as they aimed their weapon at soul sitting in movement of a computer screen with his back to them. I slowly turned to look at them. The man on the computer screen also slowly turned to look at them. This was VERY COMPELLING TV. There was a jumble of noises and photoflash of sparkle as the light beam of light produced by the helmet flashlights were jumping around the way in a unhinged way.

I looked back at the computer concealment, and my brain tried to class out why I was hearing the same sounds in my own house as was on the screen. The ray of light and yelling suddenly filled my eyes and ears. I could not break away from the computer CRT screen. I had to view. Suddenly, I realized that the side profile of the person on the estimator screen looked very familiar spirit. I turned to face the light and noise and realized that it was me that was being filmed. Those attract weapons were aimed at me.

I turned one last clock time to look at the reckoner screen, just before scene rang out. My chest exploded and I flew against my computer desk. I looked at the covert and the scene showed the dorsum of a man, with dark red blotches that were rapidly expanding in the cloth of his white apparel shirt. Then, the scene shifted back to my wife and the interviewer. My wife had a stunned tone on her boldness and all the semblance had drained from her. She was crying.

The screen then cut back to that home invasion. There was a man, laying against the figurer Monitor on his desk, in a puddle of his own blood, as he leaned on his desk. He had just enough speciality left before dying to calculate back up at the computing machine sieve and see his own confused, line splashed typeface. Then, in his final moments, that man on the screen realized that his wife had just lost a bet that cost him his life-time. The short asshole on the TV screen that grand had just witnessed being executed was me.

The computer screen switched back to the interviewer, who calmly looked at her clipboard and scan out the details for the future upshot, with date and clip. I was bleeding out and would soon be dead, but it looked as though my wife was planning to make another bet on adjacent workweek's nearly compel TV display .