My wife loves sausages

My wife loves sausages. Sausages of all shapes, sizes, textures, and flavors. I'd bet she's a
sausage addict.

She'll do anything for sausages. She even won a sausage-eating contest in Germany while we
were on vacation.

I don't like her attitude towards sausages, but I love watching her eat them: that blissful expression, smelling
the slightly wrinkled end, slowly opening her mouth to take it in, and finally chewing the long, curved sausage… oh, it
drives me crazy.

Our neighbors, friends, and colleagues all know about her peculiar sausage obsession (and she's also very beautiful,
sexy, and cute). Whenever we visit someone's house, they always find a way to prepare sausages for her.
The story I'm about to tell happened last month at a "Sausage Festival."

My friend Gary organized the event at his community center; he lives in another town, so
we had to drive three hours to get there. Whatever I thought, my wife
was genuinely excited to attend. Gary confidently told her there would be German, Scandinavian, Swiss, and
French sausages. There were even some strange, unidentified varieties from different countries (they even produce sausages there!),
such as Bangladesh, Pakistan, and Iran.

He didn't tell us that Sunday was the last day of the event. We arrived at 4 PM on Sunday afternoon, just
as the event was winding down. There were about 50 sausage enthusiasts scattered around. The whole event
area looked like a junkyard; paper plates with mustard and ketchup were everywhere, trash cans were overflowing with leftover food
and plastic cutlery, and tablecloths were stained beyond recognition with sauces and broth. Of course, the worst thing was
the smell of sausages. Don't think I'm being a spoilsport; I simply couldn't stand what I called rotten sausage. For me,
sausages should be eaten within 10 minutes of being cooked, otherwise they're like rotten meat. My wife, of course, wouldn't agree
with me at all. I could only stand there cautiously, wrinkling my nose, while she, wearing a
spring , strolled through the junkyard, her nostrils flaring, eyes closed, enjoying the overwhelming sausage smell.

Just when I was about to lose it, Gary finally spotted us. He looked somewhat disappointed.

"Damn, man, this isn't the time for the sausage festival, it's almost over." Seeing
the despair on my wife's face, he quickly added, "Okay, don't worry about it, let's get some drinks first."

We walked to a temporary workstation behind the event center and sat down to have some beer.
A bottle of unopened tequila with a label and several crystal glasses were brought out. He mixed salt and orange slices in the glass,
looking like he'd done this many times before, very skillfully, and the seasoning was mild. Just like her love for sausages, my wife also
loves to drink. But alcohol doesn't like her—she can't hold her liquor. If she drinks too much, she'll become unruly or vomit.
Today she was very disappointed; so many sausages were gone forever. Perhaps as compensation, she started
downing glass after glass of alcohol until Gary finished and came back.

Gary sat down and toasted my wife. "Cheers, honey. I know the exciting part of the event is over.
But the boxes from Bangladesh and Pakistan are still here. You know, these countries aren't very technologically advanced, and their
sausages are special because they're all handmade. Of course, the supervision is very strict, but handmade, you know, can you still
find ? I really hope you'll like them; honestly, nobody wants to eat them." My wife
perked up immediately, so we went to find the boxes from Bangladesh and Pakistan.

It was 6 PM, and the community center was like a desert, even more chaotic. In an adjoining
sales area, there were still some sausages neatly arranged. To be honest, when I saw these sausages, I almost threw up
. I would never eat such ugly, disgusting sausages, not even for free. These sausages hung quietly
on cotton threads. That was alright, but these sausages were completely different from ordinary sausages.

They were so huge! Have you ever seen sausages that are 30 centimeters long? And so fat? About 13 centimeters in diameter.
The color wasn't the usual dark brown or dark red? They were completely different. Some were gray, some were dark brown, and
some were almost black. Almost all of them were spotted, as if rotting. Their surfaces were incredibly
rough , bumpy and uneven. The only thing they all had in common was the smell—a terrible, awful
stench!

I watched in horror as my wife pointed to a grotesque, deformed sausage, completely devoid of
any edible parts. Behind the counter stood three vulgar, savage old men, who looked like
extensions of the sausages themselves. Equally black, with ugly faces, unkempt appearances, and a foul stench! Their clothes looked like they'd
been rolled around in a pile of sausages. Only the aprons Gary had provided were somewhat clean. I watched in horror as one of them, with
a hand that had just been picking his nose, tore off the sausage my wife was pointing to, as if holding it as a stick. His other hand groped lewdly from one
end to the other, then he shoved it forcefully into my wife's outstretched hand, tightly gripping
it . I involuntarily flinched.

My wife, her eyes half-closed, held the sausage to her nose with both hands. The wrinkled, fat sausage tip touched
her nose, and she sniffed it with an air of authority. My wife chewed the sausage slowly, without even a drop of mustard,
ketchup, or breadcrumbs, and then she looked a little dazed. As the sausage tip disappeared into her sexy
red lips, she swayed slowly. Inch by inch, the sausage melted in her mouth, and I grew increasingly
impatient. So I went straight out and lit a cigarette to clear my head.

Through the window, I saw her finish the Pakistani black sausage, and another ugly old man gave her
another sausage!? An even more disgusting gray sausage with reddish-brown spots. I almost gagged, but my wife chewed
it with a mixture of revenge and delight. The three old men watched and laughed, then handed my wife another one.
I stopped Gary, who was about to go inside, and started talking to him about work and other random things. We spent a few cigars and some of Gary's homemade beer outside
, then Gary had to go take care of his business, so I
came back.

It was dark inside (and dark outside too), the dim light illuminating
the area where . The sausages were gone, and my wife was lying sprawled on the table. Her skirt was pulled up, and her underwear was gone. An
ugly, dark-skinned Pakistani man was lewdly spreading her legs, while another smelly old Pakistani man...
They took one of their rotten black sausages and shoved it into my wife's thick, hairy vulva.

The sausage was hard, and despite filling her vulva, the lumpy bumps didn't go down. They
watched the old man fuck my unconscious wife's vulva, smoking and laughing. Did that ugly, disgusting sausage really look like
an ugly ? A huge, ugly cock. I froze. I was standing behind them, separated by a
closed counter. My heart started racing, and I began to consider what to do. Tequila and beer were boiling in my veins,
making me continue watching these men lewdly abuse my drunken wife; but my brain wanted me to step in and stop
them .

Just as I was about to speak up to stop their violence, Gary's hand appeared on my shoulder, and I heard his
lustful : "Damn, you lucky guy, your wife is hot... I wish it were
my cock instead of a Pakistani sausage." I was speechless, and my rock-hard cock started to leak.

Gary hadn't even managed to replace the sausage with his penis yet, but that stinky old man had already done it. He pulled out his wrinkled,
rough, unkempt, brown, wet, dirty cock, tugged and rubbed it until it was hard, then shoved the huge,
purple head of flesh into my wife's vagina. When he pulled it out, Gary and I saw some sausage flesh stuck to his
reflective black spear. He slowly fucked her, pulled it all the way out, then thrust it violently into her open tunnel of love,
all the way to the base of his thick, fat black cock. Then they switched positions, the old man grabbing her legs and moving forward,
fucking her with another sausage.

He fucked her with the sausage for five minutes, then switched to his own stinky cock—bigger and
faster than the previous one.

The most exciting part was when he started sliding the sausage and his own penis into my wife's vagina together, the sausage
unable the pressure of the vaginal contractions, slowly being crushed between the vagina and his penis. The penis, covered in sausage flesh, pushed the sausage flesh
deep into my wife's vagina.

He must have been incredibly excited by this, and with a final groan, he climbed on top of my wife. Gary and I
watched as his wrinkled buttocks twitched sluggishly, his foul-smelling semen spraying into my wife's tender, ravaged vagina
. It was like a meat pie inside—a mixture of sausage bits and masculine gravy.

The first man took his place, but unlike his friends, he didn't last as long,
ejaculating a large amount of stinky semen at the entrance of my wife's vagina, making a mess of her long, thick pubic hair. Then the first and
second men lost interest in my wife and left. The third man, the slovenlyst and smelliest, was a
Bangladeshi. Everyone mistook him for a homeless man. He took a fresh sausage and plunged it deep into my wife's vagina, stirring it around.

I think he wanted to clean out the bits of flesh and semen. However, the sausage was quite large,
and he seemed clumsy. Instead of getting the sausage out of the vagina, he broke it up even more, sending
more sausage bits deeper, making it even more chaotic. Finally, without a second thought, he pulled out his penis—
as unkempt as he was, grayish-white with age spots, like their sausage. Even from several feet away, I
could see it was covered in semen (I guessed it was from yesterday's masturbation).
He rubbed his unkempt head back and forth against my wife's labia, which were covered in sausage flesh and semen. Then he plunged the entire length into my
wife 's vagina—a 28-centimeter Bengal cock.

Perhaps due to excessive excitement, he didn't last long, ejaculating after only a few thrusts,
mixing . Then he went to the front, squeezed a string of semen from his smelly, semen- and vaginal fluid-soaked penis,
and dripped it into my wife's mouth. He pinched my wife's nose, making her swallow his pungent semen, then rubbed his slick penis on her
face .

Finally, this filthy guy picked up the biggest black sausage from the stall and forcefully shoved it into my wife's abused and defiled
vagina. He then lay there, looking up.

As soon as he left, Gary rushed over and pulled out the sausage. It was probably too wet and tight inside, because it immediately
crumbled.

Gary picked up a small piece and offered it to me as a snack. I was excited too, joking around as I ate.
Then I wanted more, so I bent down and licked the sausage directly from my wife's vulva. Once
I finished the large pieces, I vigorously licked her thick, hairy labia, sucking out the remaining sausage flesh. Of course, in the end,
along with the sausage flesh, I also ate the filthy semen of those three guys, but I was too horny to care.
It took me 10 minutes to thoroughly clean everything out of my wife's vulva. When I stood up, I realized
why Gary was so quiet. He was standing next to my wife, his black penis deeply buried in her mouth. Even though she
was drunk, she still let him fuck her mouth with a live, black sausage. For the first time in my life, I had a strange
desire: to taste Gary's black, 25cm long and 12cm wide fat sausage with my wife, who had a sausage fetish.
So I lay down next to my wife so Gary could take turns penetrating us both.

He did a very good job, distributing the thick, pungent-smelling black sausages fairly. Then he went to the table and
asked me to fuck my wife's cunt with his shiny cock. I placed the purple head of his black cock on my wife's
open cunt, and he pushed it in. My fingers slid in with his cock, and I could feel
the wet, sticky inner walls of my wife's vagina. It was a very intense sensation: feeling a thick, black cock sliding inside
my wife 's cunt, the wedding ring on her finger flashing like a signal light. My fingers and Gary's cock
pushed in even deeper, stretching my wife's cunt to its limit.

Gary found this incredibly stimulating, enjoying
the massage . He ejaculated a large amount of semen, which flowed all over my hands. I could feel his slippery semen hitting my fingers,
and I could feel my wife's vagina pulling thousands of sperm toward her uterus. The stimulation was so intense that without
any contact, I ejaculated into my own underwear. Gary lay on top of my wife for a while, then slowly pulled out his
limp, black penis. I used my mouth to seal my wife's vaginal opening, drinking fresh
milk .

Afterwards, Gary and I cleaned her up before she regained consciousness. Then we sat outside, and
he plotted how to arrange another round of sex with my wife. As for me, I squatted between his legs like a docile dog
, slowly sucking his throbbing, black penis with my mouth, which was craving semen.

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