Enjoy your home

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This call was something I'd been waiting for, but I never expected it to come so quickly.
I'd assumed that even if they accepted the agreement, it would take at least two weeks for a response. But the call came at 11:30 AM. Mantenson said, "We'll work with you, Bruce. I've signed the contract and faxed you a copy. We also sent you the original this morning by express mail. Hope it goes well with you. We'll talk again later. Goodbye." Receiving the
contract from the fax machine, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. For the past five months, I'd been working 14 to 16 hours a day, plus evenings and weekends at home, and finally secured seven big contracts. I was vying for the position of Vice President of Sales, a performance that would bring me a substantial salary, bonuses, and other benefits. I grabbed my briefcase, crossed the lobby, and went to my boss's office. I knocked, and my boss, Harvey, called me in.
I walked up to him, handed him the fax, and said, "Mantenson has signed it, and the original will be sent shortly. If you don't object, I'd like to take a week off to rest and relax with
my wife." Harvey's face lit up with a smile upon seeing the contract. He said, "Of course, you can rest for as long as you want. However, before you take your leave, you'd better decide how you want them to decorate your office—my VP of Sales!"
*** *** ***
*** On the drive home, I thought Helen would be overjoyed to see me home so early. For the past few months, I'd been getting home around 9 or 10 pm, and then working in my study until midnight. You could say I'd been a competent breadwinner, but not a good husband, for the past few months. Helen had complained several times about my lack of attention, and I'd tried to explain that my hard work was for the family's future, but she seemed unconvinced.
Okay, I'm home. I parked my car in the driveway in front of my house and saw three other cars parked there as well. I came home much earlier than usual today and was surprised to find so many friends visiting Helen.
But as soon as I entered the house, I immediately realized something was wrong. The sounds coming down from upstairs sounded like the moans of actresses in a porn movie: "Fuck me, oh God, it feels so good, give me your big cock, fuck me hard, fuck me hard, yes, fuck me hard, fuck me, fuck me..."
I was shocked because the sound was coming from my wife. I wanted to turn around and leave immediately, but something pulled me upstairs to our bedroom. Standing in the bedroom doorway, I saw Helen lying on the bed, her head resting on a man's lap, his penis in her mouth; another man was kneeling between her legs, which were raised in the air, and was fucking her anus hard; and another man was standing by the bed, watching the sex performance on the bed while masturbating.
After a while, the man who was penetrating Helen's anus said he was about to ejaculate. Helen immediately moaned excitedly, "Shoot it in, baby, shoot it deep inside me."
With that, the man thrust rapidly and violently, like a ram, and then, trembling, ejaculated all of his semen into Helen's rectum.
When he withdrew from Helen's anus, her anus was wide open, like an open tunnel, and a stream of cloudy white semen flowed out like a small river.
Helen spat out the penis from her mouth, telling the man who was enjoying her oral sex to go back to penetrating her anus. The man got up from the bed, and just as he was about to move behind her, he suddenly saw me standing in the doorway glaring at them. He stopped there, bewildered. The others in the room, seeing him stop, also turned their heads and saw me.
Helen glanced at me, then turned to the men and said, "It's okay, he's my husband, he won't do anything to you. Keep going, don't let him slow you down. Come on, Roy, come fuck my ass, hurry up, I want you to fuck my anus."
Then she turned back to me and said, "They all love fucking my ass, Bruce. They've all fucked my anus and shot their semen inside. Look at Roy, Bruce, watch him shove his big cock into my rectum, watch him do to me what you haven't done to me in the last five months."
The man named Roy glanced at me cautiously, then climbed onto the bed and knelt behind Helen.
Helen let out a loud scream as the thick penis was fully inserted into my wife's anus. The man who had been standing by the bed, stroking his own penis, walked up to Helen and shoved his penis into her mouth.
Seeing this, I turned around, left the bedroom without a word, and went downstairs to my study. Sitting at my desk, I tried to calm my breathing and sort out the jumbled thoughts in my mind. The scene I witnessed was incredibly lewd, but while watching, I felt only curiosity, without any other emotional involvement. I felt neither anger nor excitement, seemingly indifferent to everything.
Sitting there listening to the moans coming from the bedroom, the thuds of flesh colliding, and Helen's cries for them to fuck her harder and deeper, I don't know what thought drove me, but I suddenly stood up, grabbed my camera and a fully loaded 1911a1 revolver, opened the door, and went upstairs to the bedroom. I tucked the pistol into my belt, took photos of Helen with a penis in her mouth, and another penis inserted into her vagina and anus, then returned to my study.
About three minutes later, the two men who had been having sex with Helen burst into my study, yelling that I hand over the camera: "Give us that fucking camera!"
I told them that was impossible, and one of them immediately shouted, "You better watch out, or we'll hurt you!"
Without a word, I pulled out my .45mm pistol from behind me, pointed it at them, and yelled, "You want the camera? No way! Get the fuck out of this room right now!"
The two men were terrified and scrambled out of my study, running back to their bedroom upstairs. A little while later, I heard Helen say to the three men, "You'd better leave now. I think my husband and I need to talk."
Then I heard the front door open and close, and the men were gone.
A few minutes later, Helen appeared at the door of my study. She stood there looking at me for a few minutes before finally saying, "Are you alright?"
I turned to look at her and said, "Alright with what?"
She made a face and said, "Want to tell me something?"
"Why? What's the purpose of saying it?"
"Hey, don't be like that. You must be very angry. Do you want to know why I did this?" "
I don't want to know. I work myself to the bone all day long, all for this family, to give us a better life. Because of this, I've neglected you a bit for the past five months. For most women, their husbands' hard work for the happiness of the family is worth even some time for intimacy, but I know you don't belong to the 'most women' category. Let me tell you, my hard work over the past five months has paid off. I'm now the vice president of sales at the company. Just when I was feeling very honored, I came home and found that you had completely embarrassed me."
"Hey, don't put all the blame on me. This has nothing to do with what projects you're working on or how hard you work. You simply don't care about me; you've completely forgotten about me for five whole months. Even if you're busy, don't you have time to kiss me goodbye when you leave home in the morning? No matter how late you get home, you hide in your damn study until I can't wait for you to fall asleep before you go to bed. Even on weekends, you won't spare a single minute for me. You know it was my birthday three months ago, but you didn't even send me a card, let alone any other gifts, you didn't even call to wish me a happy birthday. And do you even remember our marriage?" "Our wedding anniversary? It was just three weeks ago, and what have you been doing? If you remembered but were too busy, you should have let me know, shouldn't you? When have you ever taken even a few minutes to tell me what you're doing? When have you ever said to me, 'Honey, just bear with me a little longer, I'm really busy lately, but things will be better after this'? No, never, ever! Overnight, you went from a gentle, loving husband to a complete bastard who ignores me. What am I supposed to do? Just sit there and wait for your favor? Fuck you, you bastard Bruce!"
Helen snapped, turned, and ran out of my study, back to the bedroom. I sat there, stunned, thinking about what she'd just said. Maybe she was right; I shouldn't forget our wedding anniversary and her birthday, no matter how busy I was. But did that mean everything else she did was right? I never imagined my neglect would hurt her so much, but was that her excuse for sleeping with other men? Why didn't she come to my study to talk to me properly those days?
Sitting in the study, I thought for an hour and a half, and finally decided to have another serious talk with her. So I got up and went to the bedroom to find Helen. But when I entered the bedroom, I saw her packing her bags.
"What are you doing?"
"Packing my things, waiting for you to kick me out of the house."
"Why?"
"You know why, you bastard. Those photos you took of me with other men weren't for hanging on the bedroom wall, were they? Those were evidence you collected for the divorce. I won't let you torture me like that. If you want a divorce, then divorce me. I don't want one, but there's nothing I can do. I'll find a place to stay, I'll give you the address, and you can mail me the divorce papers."
After saying that, without waiting for me to speak, she picked up her suitcase and went downstairs.
A few minutes later, I heard the sound of a car starting. When I went downstairs to check, she was already gone.
*** *** *** ***
???? I spent a whole day thinking about my relationship with Helen. We became lovers in our junior year of college, and for the ten years after we got married, we were very happy.
How could I bear to let such a beautiful love and marriage be destroyed? I loved her so much—no, I always have—but she's gone. The thought of losing her in my future life is excruciating, but what can I do to save our marriage? Even if I could bring her back, could I tolerate the fact that she was gang-raped by three men? Could she forget them? Now, without hearing from her, I don't know what to do.
The next two weeks passed slowly without any news from her. After a week of rest at home, I went back to work, hoping to forget my troubles and longing for Helen by immersing myself in work. But every night when I got home, Helen was still on my mind, and I desperately wanted to hear from her. I called her parents, siblings, and friends, asking where Helen might be living, but I got no clue.
Later, I received a letter telling me I could send any documents related to her to a post office mailbox.
I found the post office and often spent my time after work staking out its entrance, hoping to run into Helen. Finally, my efforts paid off; after two days of waiting, I saw Helen enter the post office. I quickly got out of the car and followed her inside, where I saw her checking her mailbox.
"If you're looking for divorce papers, you'll be disappointed,"
I told her.
She turned around. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't have your phone number, so I came here."
She said, "We don't have anything to talk about, Bruce."
"I don't think we have anything to talk about. We used to be very happy together, and now I need to mend our broken marriage."
Helen shook her head and said, "It's too late, Bruce. Too much has happened in the last few months; our relationship is beyond repair."
"Then we should at least have a proper talk, shouldn't we?"
Helen stared at me for a moment, then said, "Okay, we can talk, but you won't like what I'm about to say. If you think you can bear the pain of our conversation, then let's talk."
We crossed the street together, sat down in a café, ordered two coffees, and I said, "What do you think I should do to save our marriage?"
A pitying smile appeared on her face. "Then you'll have to become a superhero."
"What do you mean? Become a superhero?"
"What I mean is, the only way for me to get back in your life is for you to become a super-strong man with incredible stamina—you have to be able to have sex with me non-stop, day and night."
I was speechless, just staring blankly at her.
"Hmm..."
she said, "Do you really want to know?"
I nodded, hoping she would explain.
"It's simple. Because I've discovered I love sex, I really enjoy sex. I've also discovered that one man simply can't satisfy my sexual needs. Do you know where I live now? I live with the two men you saw gang-raping me when you came home that day, with both of them, Bruce, you understand? Even those two can't satisfy me; every time they fuck me, they call two to five friends to help. That's it, Bruce, for the past two weeks, I've been having group sex with several men almost every night."
Seeing the extreme disappointment on my face, she reached out and stroked my face, continuing, "It's both your fault and not your fault. It's your fault because your neglect of me made me..." "I've realized what I truly need; it's not your fault, it's because I'm a wanton woman."
Seeing my confused expression, Helen continued, "It's like this, you promised to take me to Barbo's birthday party, but maybe you were too busy and forgot, or maybe you thought it was too much trouble and didn't want to go, anyway, you broke your promise. By then, I had been living alone under your neglect for two months, so I decided to go to the party by myself. That day I got drunk and was seduced by a man, and I'm sorry I did something unfaithful to you, letting him rape me in the back seat of his car. Then, he took me back to his apartment and fucked me five more times until dawn. But I was still excited and wanted to keep fucking him."
"But he was finished. No matter how much I sucked, clamped my breasts, or even licked his anus, I couldn't get him hard again. He had no choice but to call some of his friends, the burly young guys he often played basketball with. The six of them fucked me for a whole day and night. Since then, I've often had group sex with them."
"Bruce, you know what the worst thing is? At least for me, I feel like you don't care about me at all. Because I left home at 5 pm that Friday to go to Barbo's birthday party and didn't get home until 9:30 pm Sunday, and you didn't even know or care where I went. Three days later, I went to Barbo's house, where he and his four friends fucked me for four days and four nights, but when I got home, you still didn't look for me. Do you understand what I mean, Bruce? You always say how important I am to you, but I was gone for days, and you didn't even ask. One night, I even took..." Brad was fucking in our bedroom while you were working in the study downstairs. I did it to see if you cared about me, if you paid attention to me, but I was very disappointed. I deliberately moaned loudly that day, didn't you hear me? I wanted you to hear me, I even wanted you to come to the bedroom and beat me up, at least that would show you cared about me. But you didn't, your mind was all on getting a promotion. Now you say you want to fix our relationship, it's impossible, I've become a complete slut, you can't satisfy my desires anymore.”
"Did any of those men fall in love with you?"
"They all love my vagina, my mouth, and my anus. They love me because they can play with me and rape me anytime, anywhere, but they don't love me as a person."
"But I love you. I never really realized how much I loved you until you left home."
"Yes, you might be surprised, but I still love you, baby. But as I said, I've become a complete slut, and you can't help me anymore."
I looked at her silently for a few minutes, then said, "Maybe I can help you."
*** *** ***
*** Although the constant moans and lewd talk coming from the upstairs bedroom often made it difficult for me to concentrate on my work in the study, the agreement I had with Helen was still being effectively enforced. After in-depth conversations and a heart-to-heart exchange of ideas, Helen finally agreed to continue living with me on the condition that she be allowed to bring her lovers home for group sex. And so, Helen and her lovers would fuck until 7 p.m. every day, and then she belonged to me all night until I left for work in the morning.
From my perspective, I tried to ignore the time between leaving for work in the morning and returning home at 7 p.m. I never came home before 7 p.m., but as soon as it was 7 p.m., I knew the men who had been fucking my wife all day should be leaving, so I would rush home impatiently. As soon as I got home, I would pounce between her legs and, like a bear greedily sucking nectar, vigorously suck and lick the semen left by her lovers from her filthy vagina.
Now, Helen and I have sex many times more often than before, and Helen says that as long as I'm with her, I'll definitely become Superman. Actually, I can't become Superman at all, but one day Helen even called me Super Blues. Although I don't know what she really means, I know I have to keep trying.

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