Janet fucked two, even three different guys on the same night

When I married Janet, we were both 23, out of college, and
beginning our careers. Neither one of us was a virgin, and
during the twelve years we’ve been married, neither one of us had
ever pried into or even discussed past lovers.
Janet is a “Lady,” in all the positive connotations that
word brings to mind. She is a bit on the “proper” side —
cordial, but cool (almost aloof), until you get to know her. We
have had a wonderful marriage, though unable to have children,
and she is my wife, my friend, my lover. All of this is to
emphasize the degree of my recent shock.
Several months ago, I was digging the comforter out of the
back of the closet. In pulling it off the high shelf, I also
brought down a small cardboard box that popped open when it hit
the floor. I ducked, cursed and looked down to see books
spilling out of the box. The books were diaries.
In the box were eleven diaries of various design and size
that covered the years Janet was in seventh grade through the
year she met me.
I know what I *SHOULD* have done, but I didn’t do it. I was
home, alone, and I began reading the diaries. Over the next two
weeks, I slipped one out at a time, read it at the office, and
returned it to the box, until I had completed all eleven of them.
From reading them, I discovered I had not married the woman
I assumed I had. I had assumed that, like me, Janet had
experimented with sex, to varying degrees, in high school and
through college; having 2, 3, maybe 4 or even 5 lovers over those
years. I had made love to only 2 other women (really just girls)
before I met Janet, and I thought, because of her looks (so
important in the school years), that she had probably been more
active than me.
On that point, I was correct. From reading the diaries I
determined that my cool, formal, lady of a wife had had over 380
lovers in those eleven years! I feel that I’m liberated, but
still, in my mind, that number of lovers would qualify my wife
for the description of “slut.”
Can you imagine your partner having a history with 380 men
or women before you? It was a shock to me.
Janet’s young sex life was almost too full and too painful
to believe.

She began in eighth grade, when she was only 13 years old,
and one of her teachers seduced her. This wasn’t the only
occurrence of sexual abuse of her as a child. Just while she was
in high school, several neighbors, an uncle, two older cousins,
two fathers of girlfriends, three brothers of girlfriends, three
men that she babysat for, a father of a boyfriend, a guidance
counselor, a therapist, two other teachers, and a priest(!) all
had sex with Janet. At the same time, Janet was dating boys her
own age, sometimes two a weekend, and never saying “no.”
The diaries covering her high school years were sad because
Janet knew she was being used by the boys and men and didn’t know
how to stop being a victim. She talked to a counselor and a
therapist — and they both ended up fucking her!
In college, Janet began to take control of her life in every
way except sex. There, she remained a victim; always “Miss
Roundheels” and the “easiest” piece of ass on campus.
Reading those pages now, at age 35, I could clearly see the
hurt and confusion Janet was feeling, but the words she wrote
were usually happy, full of hope, and filled with wonder at the
adventure she was experiencing.
And it was an adventure. In ninth grade, alone, besides the
“normal” dates she had, Janet screwed two guys in a car after
they dropped the first girl off after a double-date; fucked and
sucked four guys at a party; was screwed by her two older cousins
in the woods on Thanksgiving Day; and, for the finale, sucked and
fucked 7 players and the manager of her high school lacrosse team
in the locker room after the championship game. The only thing
she complained about in her diary was the smell!
Several times in college, Janet fucked two, even three
different guys on the same night, usually at parties. She spent
a long weekend at the ocean with four guys, fucking all of them,
plus several of their friends who stopped by. She screwed at
least five different professors. She was the “mascot” for a
heavy metal band one summer (A summer basically spent drunk and
on her back or her knees, of which she wrote “I hope I’m strong
enough to never again do the gross and disgusting things I did
with and for and to those five guys!!!!”) She spent a Spring
Break in Florida, competing with two of her girlfriends to see
who could fuck the most guys (Of course, Janet won.) And,
finally, spent an afternoon and night upstairs at a Frat house,
taking on all comers (Her diary said she lost count, but she
thinks it was in the 12 to 15 different guys range! Janet did
wonder if she was a “nympho” after that!).
One angry thought that I had, reading all of this, was that
Janet didn’t go to bed with me for months after we started
This wasn’t my only angry thought. I couldn’t get the
number out of my mind. It was overwhelming. I kept thinking of
the number of cocks and fingers and tongues that had filled my
wife’s cunt and mouth and ass. And the cum! How many gallons of
cum had entered her body?
I began to wonder what had driven her, and if she was a
“nympho.” And then, I was filled with bile as I wondered if she
had stopped screwing every man in sight, or if only the diaries
had stopped. Was she still the easiest piece of ass in the city?
I became obsessed to find out.
I began by keeping track of the time we weren’t together. I
was convinced that Janet couldn’t have stopped “Cold Turkey,” and
I was going to find out for certain.
I followed her sporadically for a few weeks, and she was
always where she said she was going to be. Soon, I was saying I
had to work late or meet friends, to leave her alone in the
house. She didn’t leave and she didn’t have men lined up and
taking a number at the front door.
I continued until I realized that I was missing Janet. We
had always enjoyed our time together, and I was shortening that
time to carry out some obsession I had. I loved Janet, and she
had never given me any reason to doubt her love, or her fidelity.
She hadn’t lied to me about her past; I never asked and she never
volunteered any information.
I began to relax. And even though thoughts of the cocks of
the hundreds of boys and men who had fucked her haunted me, I was
working to put Janet’s past behind me, too. It was obvious Janet
had managed to do just that.
All of that changed two months ago.
I attended a farewell luncheon for a coworker at his
favorite restaurant. It was on the other side of town from where
I worked and we lived, but the food was excellent. None of us
intended to return to work in the afternoon, so I stayed with the
crowd, sipping my club-sodas-and-lime.
I was the last to leave. Janet had a “Professional Women”
dinner and meeting and wouldn’t be home until later; so I stayed
to enjoy another shrimp salad sandwich. On my way home, I passed
Janet’s office.
Bad habits are hard to break, because when I drove by the
almost empty parking lot, I saw Janet’s car and decided to wait
for her. I should have just parked next to her and invited her
to skip her meeting and go have a drink with me, but I didn’t. I
parked away from her car and watched.
Right on time, Janet appeared at the door and walked to her
car. Just looking at her made me warm up. Pretty beyond words,
she still had her great figure and fantastic legs. The red suit
she was wearing was one of my favorites because the blouse she
wore with it displayed her creamy cleavage and the tight, short
skirt emphasized her hips and legs. I was immediately suspicious
because it was a strange outfit to wear to a “career women”
organization’s meeting!

I followed her car from a distance because I knew where her
dinner was being held. When we passed the restaurant, I crept up
to keep her car in sight. Janet drove downtown and pulled into
the parking garage next to the Convention Center. Not wanting to
pull in behind her, I decided to make a trip around the block and
then park.
That was a mistake. Rush hour traffic and getting past an
accident turned my two minute trip into a twenty minute ordeal.
I finally got to the garage and found Janet’s car. I drove by it
and parked on the next level. My fear was that I’d never be able
to find Janet in the downtown area, and that my trip was for

I was very, very lucky (or maybe unlucky).
I spotted the red suit at the bar in the third and nicest
lounge I searched. I took a table at the back in a dark corner
and watched what was going on.
Janet was obviously enjoying being the center of attention
for three businessmen. She was turned with her back to the bar,
and the men were at her sides and in front of her. Her legs were
crossed, giving the entire lounge a breathtaking view of her
thighs. As she laughed, she would bend forward, and I could
almost hear the three sets of eyeballs click as they gazed down
her blouse.
On the next round of drinks, I noticed that the gray-haired
executive placed his hand on my wife’s stocking-clad thigh.
Janet made no motion to move it. After the next round, the four
of them left the lounge. Janet was arm-in-arm with two of them,
and I was close behind.
They walked along the elevated walkways to the biggest hotel
in town. They were the only ones on their elevator, so I watched
the numbers light to see that they went to the fifteenth floor.
I followed.
To my surprise, they didn’t go to someone’s room. The whole
floor was taken up with “Hospitality” suites for the electronics
industry conventioneers in town. The corridor was crowded and
loud, but I caught a glimpse of Janet and her friends enter a
doorway at the very end of the hall.
I stopped off at one vendor’s table, grabbed a name tag and
filled it in with an appropriate sounding company name. I took
my time approaching the last suite, spending over a half hour
waiting for them to come out. When I got there, it was a huge
corner suite of two very large rooms. I didn’t see Janet or the
men in the first room, so I carefully approached the doorway to
the second room. It was also crowded but I was certain Janet
wasn’t there, either.

How had I lost them? I was certain I was in the right
suite. I grabbed a soda and sat down in a corner chair,
pondering my next step.
I was almost finished my soda when the door on my right
opened and out stepped the gray-haired businessman I had seen
with his hands on my wife’s thighs. I had thought the door was
just the locked door to the next suite.
The gray-haired guy grabbed a drink at the bar next to me
and smiled at another businessman with the same kind of name tag
on, “Whew! Hot stuff in there.”
The second guy glanced around, “I saw her when you brought
her in. Prime stuff. Both Roy and Phil in there?”
“Yeah, but go ahead. I guarantee *SHE* won’t mind! She
told us she was a real party girl… and she is!”
The second guy smiled, nodded and opened the door. In the
seconds it was open, I could see Janet’s red suit lying on the
floor. My wife was in there and she was fucking strangers.
I didn’t know what to do. I was angry, hurt, shocked, and
yet, part of me was excited and curious. I decided to sit there
and wait for Janet to come out.

By ten, the crowd was thinning out, and a sales rep was
trying to sell me a million dollars worth of microchips. I
hadn’t left the room, and, in addition to the original three men,
four more had gone into the room where Janet was. There were
still two men in there with her at that moment.
By eleven, three more men had visited Janet, and only the
sales reps and some drunks were left in the suite. I played
drunk, and no one asked me to leave.
They weren’t as careful opening and closing the door and in
the last half hour I had had two glimpses of my darling wife.
The first time, she was on her back, spread-legged and an old man
was pounding her ass into the bed. The second time, she was on
her knees, sucking a cock as a young blonde with an erection was
crawling up behind her. What a lady!

Finally, the party was wrapping up. By my count, fourteen
men had sampled my wife’s charms. I stood up to leave and saw
that Janet was still on her back on the bed. Her eyes were
closed. Without thinking about what I was doing, I walked into
the room, dropped my trousers and shorts and crawled between her
legs. Her cunt was so full of cum, that as I pushed my cock into
her, I could feel the other men’s jism squeeze out around my skin
and into my pubic hair.
Janet moaned and said, “Mmmm, Baby, the party’s not over,
yet, eh?” Then, she turned to look at the man fucking her. Her
eyes popped open in surprise and shock.
“There’s at least one more cock here that you haven’t had,
yet, tonight, you disgusting slut.” I was so angry and hurt and
hot, I was spitting my words at her. “Now I know what they mean
by ‘sloppy cunt.’ That’s what you have right now, bitch.”
Seconds later, I had the most intense orgasm in my life. I
pulled my cock out of her slimy pussy, pulled up my pants and
walked out of the suite.
I was showering when Janet walked into the bathroom.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel.
“By my count, I was the fifteenth cock you had shoved up your
cunt, tonight. Is that a personal record?”
Janet reddened and glared back at me, “No, the record’s
still two years ago, when I fucked an entire softball team and
the two umpires in the back of a bar. The total that night was

“You slut! You cunt-bitch-slut! Is there anybody in the
city you haven’t opened your pussy for?”
Janet raised her hand in a fist, but she collapsed into my
arms. “I’m sick, Jim. I don’t know why I do it. I never wanted
to hurt you. Leave me, right now. You don’t deserve this!”
God, I loved her! What were we going to do?
Still holding Janet in my arms, I filled the tub. I
undressed her and gently placed her in the water, washing the cum
and sweat of other men off of her smooth, white skin.
She never stopped crying, as I dried her and put her into
bed. I warmed oil on my hands and massaged her legs and back and
arms. I covered her, turned out the lights, and got under the
covers with her. Only sleep let her stop sobbing.
She was gone in the morning. She left her diaries, and as I
was cleaning out her dresser, I found the ones for the years we
were married. The 380 men from her younger years were just a
feeble rehearsal for the army of men she had over those twelve

But it doesn’t matter. I miss her, and would take her back
in an instant. But, she’s gone, and I’m afraid I’ll never see
her, again.